


The Second Labor Job

by justanotherStonyfan



Series: Random AUs [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Leverage Fusion, Brain Damage, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Flashbacks, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Multi, Nonlinear Narrative, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Eliot Spencer, Recovery, Seizures, disguises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherStonyfan/pseuds/justanotherStonyfan
Summary: “I’m not a good person,” ‘Jack’ says. “And you prob’ly won’t wanna help.”Eliot leans back a little. That implies a lot, and he feels like he’s digging them deeper with every word.“Then why’d you come to us?” he says.“’Cause you’re good people,” the guy says. “And I need good people.”Bucky Barnes needs help. He goes to see some people who might be able to give him some. (Leverage crossover AU)
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Random AUs [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/727680
Comments: 106
Kudos: 302
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isoisoashley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isoisoashley/gifts).



> Written as a fill for my **'Promotes Crime'** square from my Banned Together Bingo 2020 bingo card.  
>  **EDIT:Bad Guy's surname changed in light of recent news stories.**
> 
> All the love to my beta Ashley!!
> 
> Cut me some slack and suspend your disbelief for a while - I wasn't cut out to be a mastermind.

The thing is, he’s stronger than they let him know. He’s smarter than they let him think. A dozen languages under his belt, the instinctive operation knowledge sitting behind any wheel, yoke or stick, the understanding of windspeed, of lightplay, of every little thing around him. Alarm systems don’t need to be broken when you can break the people who respond to them.

The chair still makes him sweat, still turns his blood cold, when he sees it assembled there. Lights flash around him but it’s there, in front of him, put together piece by piece and waiting for him. 

Well not this time. 

This is the last one he remembers - he remembers a great deal now he’s had the chance for his brain to come back. And it doesn’t take long for twisted metal to rend in his hands, one of _them_ is metal too, after all. Blood wells when the metal shears, but it’s worth the pain, worth the blood - he destroys it. The metal, the straps, the halo, the generator. 

It can’t hurt him any more - it can’t hurt _anyone_ any more. 

The other guards are coming - the ones on payroll, the ones who don’t know the codes and the secret meeting locations and the handler designations. These ones don’t deserve the same thing as the ones he’s already dealt with and so he leaves. Runs for his life with the knowledge that the vault’s only purpose now is the one it was built for. 

Except he hears him. A voice he knows, without a name. He wasn’t permitted to know their names. 

He slows, he _stops_ \- he could kill but then there’d be more blood on his hands and no proof, and that’s not what he needs. He needs proof. He wants them all to pay.

_“Christ, it’ll take forever to rebuild, even_ with _the plans.”_

Because of course. 

Hydra always did like paper over digital, he remembers that now, remembers the inside of a carefully designed room, remembers smug faces and an empty mind. Someone built the chairs, someone designed the chairs, someone had plans for the chairs. Even if every chair is destroyed, as long as the plans exist, he’ll never be safe. 

Cut off one head, two more will take its place.


	2. The Job

Morning means one of two things at their place - either somebody’s up first and making noise, ‘cause despite living with the best thief and the best hacker on the planet, stealth’s never something gets applied at home, _or_ , and this is the important part, Eliot wakes before their alarm goes off, and extricates himself from the tangle of limbs to go make breakfast. It’s true that most days are the latter, but it’s still the preferable way to wake up when it happens - startin’ the day right.

Coffee to begin with - for Hardison anyway, no way does he give Parker caffeine this early in the day. He starts steeping his tea round about the time he’s prepping to steam the milk for Hardison’s latte, travesty though a latte is when it’s made with semi-skim. 

Okay, Hardison gets a teaspoon of honey in it this morning, just ‘cause that’s how Eliot feels about it today. Parker will have her not-pulpy orange juice because you might be able to lead horses to the benefits in flavor and texture that pulpy orange juice brings, but neither of those horses will drink it apparently. She doesn’t like pulp, and Alec won’t drink anything orange that isn’t carbonated. 

It takes a hot second to figure out what breakfast is going to be today, but he settles into buttermilk pancakes for Parker and prosciuto and parmesan scrambled eggs for Hardison, on hot buttered granary toast. It’s good stuff - another local guy - and Eliot makes two slices for himself with the butter, and the strawberry preserves, he put together over the weekend. Seriously, people never consider how simple it is to make good, hearty, salted butter from a little bit of cream and elbow grease. And, obviously, a sprinkling of sea-salt. 

He has tea, because it’s too early for coffee and he doesn’t need the kick just yet, and then he goes back to the bedroom to turn off the alarm and see how long it takes the smell of good-cooking to wake the other two. 

~

“Oh damn,” Alec says as he rouses, because anything Eliot makes deserves an ‘oh damn,’ but these eggs in particular. 

Parker’s already awake, going through some blueprints like Eliot reads the morning paper - propped up against the headboard and somehow seriously entertained - but for Alec those things can wait. Because Eliot made them all breakfast, and eating aforementioned breakfast together in bed is singlehandedly the _best_ way to wake up that Alec knows.

~

Parker reads her blueprints with her phone in one hand, and eats her pancakes with the other. She’s not paying attention to the pancakes, not really, until she actually eats one, and then she remembers that her feet are still warm and she’s got her blueprints and her pancakes are _amazing_. Such are the advantages of personal involvement with a professional hitter-slash-chef. 

“These are really good,” she says through an entire mouthful of pancake.

Hardison gives her a look like _‘right?’_ and Eliot, legs stretched out with ankles crossed on the bedspread, on the other side of Hardison, his newspaper in hand and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, turns his head and smiles a little thing. 

It’s his pleased smile, sweet and quiet, just like he is in the mornings. Just like he is most of the time. Except for, y’know. On the job. 

She grins at him, and he goes back to his paper a moment later. 

Disappointingly, Eliot is up and dressed and has been busy, which means he has already showered, which means she’ll only be able to interrupt Hardison’s shower instead of hopping in with the first one and staying in for the second one. Eliot’s like that, though - took them long enough to wind up like this to start with, and then longer still to figure him out once they had. Sometimes he wants to be last out of bed, asleep between both of them, and sometimes he wants to be first out in the world, busy and occupied.

It’s fine, she’ll shower with Hardison, it’s not like either of them will mind.

***

They’re gonna look at a Wall Street Wolf type thing - dude’s been skimming money for years and he’ll be a pleasure to take down, except that, when Alec pulls up the info, he gets the surveillance cams first, and all’s well and normal except that Eliot’s good mood evaporates like so much smoke as he takes in the view.

“Wait! That guy,” he says.

Alec looks at Eliot for a long couple of moments, and then turns around to look at the screens.

“Which guy?” Parker asks, and Eliot nods harder.

“That guy,” he says, “by the bar,” and Alec runs visual inventory of the people on the screen - no…no…n- oh wait, that guy, with the baseball cap? And then Eliot says, incredulous, “Is he _packin’?”_

“Uh,” Alec says, because he can’t tell from here, but Eliot’s already on the move.

His hair’s been trimmed back again recently but it still kinda flows behind him when he marches out, (cute,) jabbing a finger in the direction of the display screens as he leaves.

“Not in _our joint_ ,” and then he’s gone, and Alec has time to give Parker that good old ‘what the hell’ before Eliot’s showing up on the security feed at their end of the bar. 

At the other end of the bar is a dude - not a small dude either, but a dude who’s trying to make himself _look_ small. It’s sorta working too - nobody’s giving him a second glance, he’s got a half-finished water on the counter in front him and a hunch to his shoulders that makes him look like he’s nervous, but he spots Eliot a second later and then…

Huh. Eliot’s intimidating at the best of times, but especially when he wants to be. Which he does, Alec can see him doing _the stance_. But this guy doesn’t look worried, and Alec would be concerned about that under any other circumstance. Except that the dude doesn’t look like he’s accepting a challenge, he looks like he’s relieved. And then Eliot’s whole stance changes, too.

~

Immediately, Eliot can see the guy’s a vet. It’s blatantly obvious in the way he holds himself, the way he looks around the room, the way he clocks every person - Eliot included - and has given himself a pretty clear run to the door, too. He sits around the corner of the end of the bar, a basket of bread in front of him, a glass of water next to that, and takes Eliot in with a sweep of his eyes, an acknowledgement, and then keeps going, only turning his head back to Eliot when he’s done checking out the room, and so Eliot eases up a little, no less caution but a little less ‘or else’. Eliot doesn’t know how long the guy’s been here, and he knows how to feel sorry for a man who’s seen the same kinda stuff that gives them all nightmares, but this guy definitely has a gun, and that doesn’t fly in this establishment.

So, priorities - his main concern is their patrons, but the guy doesn’t look like he thinks he’s been made. This isn’t someone casing the joint, someone waiting to take hostages. This is a dude who looks happy to have a hitter on the other side of the bar, so Eliot starts to move. There’ve been plenty of jumpy vets around since the mess in DC eight months ago, and so Eliot walks slowly, hands not up but palms showing, so that he’d be innocuous to anyone else and registers as not-a-threat to this dude. He’s still a threat, of course, but this at least makes his good intentions clear.

The guy lets him get all the way up to him - red long-sleeved tee, gray slacks, ballcap, jacket, backpack on the floor by his feet - lets him come all the way up next to him, and then Eliot takes a chance. The guy doesn’t look unhappy, doesn’t look caged in. He looks relieved, if anything, and so Eliot leans on the bar, between the guy and the exit. A shield for their patrons, a shield for the vet.

“You find people,” the guy says unprompted. “You do things.”

It doesn’t sound like a question. 

“Yeah,” Eliot tells him, and glances left and right. There’s nobody too close - if this guy draws, Eliot can take him, and potentially get between him and anyone else if need be. He smiles a little, tries to look friendly - tries to get the guy on-side. “You’re armed.”

“I,” the guy says, brow furrowing. Wait, Eliot knows this guy, doesn’t he? “I…” and then he ducks his head, hunches his shoulders some more, he glances left and right too. “I have a gun,” he says, nodding, looking at Eliot with his eyes wide and his mouth tight, “I-I mean, I _do_ have a gun, but it’s not loaded. I..I need help.”

Eliot has the time between one statement and the next to be concerned, and then he draws a deep breath, narrows his eyes. 

“You’re not eating?” he says, and the guy blinks, looks down at the bread and the water. 

“I,” he says, but then he looks lost. 

“I want the gun,” Eliot says. “I don’t gotta keep it when we’re done but y’all gotta give it ‘fore we can talk. Deal?”

The guy doesn’t even hesitate. It’s almost weird - his expression clears and he just straight-up goes for the gun. Eliot tenses, can’t help it - the guy doesn’t telegraph or go slow and, for a second, it looks like it might end in a fight, but then the guy’s just holding a handgun between them, handle towards Eliot, safety on. 

Eliot checks it, even cycles it in front of himself, quietly as he can, to check the chamber. But it’s empty, the guy’s telling the truth - and then he tries to figure out if anyone else saw as he tucks into his belt and covers it with his shirt. Nobody’s looking their way, nobody’s freaking out, so odds are a no. 

“Now, why you got a gun, brother?” he says, soft, and the guy shakes his head, runs his hand over his mouth - there’s something weird about it but Eliot can’t pinpoint what.

“I had the gun,” he says. “I didn’t have ammo but I had the gun.”

Eliot draws a breath, looks over his shoulder down the bar and gives Amy a nod.

“You hungry?” Eliot asks, and looks back at the guy.

“I don’t have any money,” the guys answers. 

Eliot really does smile about that.

“That’s okay,” he says. “I know the boss.”

~

Parker watches the exchange - they can’t hear it, of course, Eliot left before he’d put in an earbud and there still aren’t any bugs on the restaurant floor.

“Why aren’t there bugs on the restaurant floor?” she says, even though she knows the answer.

“We talked about this babe,” Hardison answers, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Eliot talk to the guy. “Patrons aren’t marks.”

“Not with that attitude,” she mutters, but she’s still got a pancake left and she managed to get to the coffee, too.

Eliot doesn’t look worried. He isn’t looking at the cameras or signaling for help, he’s not wrestling the guy to the ground - it’d be a short fight if he had to anyway. Hardison’s on edge, she can see the tension across his shoulders, but she isn’t. Eliot can handle himself, can certainly handle this guy, and it looks like he won’t need to anyway.

“We know who he is?” she says, and Hardison shakes his head.

Which is odd.

“Facial recognition?” she says, and he shakes his head again.

“He’s not on file,” he says, and…okay _that’s_ weird. 

They see Eliot talking to him, Eliot taking something from him and doing a visual check-

“Eliot got the gun,” he says, and Parker nods. 

Then Eliot gets Amy’s attention. Huh.

“Look at the camera, Eliot,” she says to Eliot, because Eliot likes to yell at TV Chefs and Hardison likes to yell at his sci-fi programs, but Eliot can’t hear her. “Think he’s safe?”

“Think he won’t appreciate interruptions,” Hardison answers. 

“You worried?” she asks, and Hardison nods.

“Yeah. Always am about you two, you know?”

“Eh,” she answers, and finishes her pancake. “Eliot could take him.”

But Hardison’s quiet for a long time after she says that. He nods eventually, but she doesn’t think he’s convinced.

***

In all honesty, Eliot expects the guy to inhale his food. He doesn’t know what to get when Eliot asks, so Eliot orders for him, asking Amy for a bacon double-cheeseburger with all the trimmings and the twice fried French fries. The guy says he doesn’t know if he’ll like their spicy food, so Eliot asks her for the salt and pepper fries on the side, instead of the Cajun spice. And, fair to him, when it reaches them, the guy’s eyes go wide. He smells clean, he looks alert, so Eliot can’t be sure that he’s homeless, but he certainly comes across that way. He’s still wearing the backpack, and he looks at the plate of food the way Eliot would like all their patrons to look at the food. He also doesn’t flinch when Eliot sits on the stool next to him, but he does glance a couple more times out the corner of his eye per minute than he was doing before.

Then he starts to pick at his food.

He doesn’t lift the whole thing and take a bite, he starts at the top - sesame brioche bun, garlic butter, toasted - and nibbles around the edge where the shiny surface meets the toasted edge. Once he’s done that for a couple of seconds, he takes a real bite of the bun lid and seems satisfied. Then he puts the bitten lid down and starts on the sliced red onion. He doesn’t like the onion.

“Goes better together,” Eliot tells him - not because he’s trying to tell the guy what to do but because he’s fishing for answers, and the guy shakes his head.

“I don’t know what I like,” he says, and suddenly Eliot gets it.

When he said he didn’t know if he’d like ‘their’ spicy food, he meant he didn’t know if he likes spicy food. When he said he didn’t know what he wanted, he really meant he didn’t know. As in, he _doesn’t know._

“Where’d you serve?” Eliot asks, as the guy’s taking a nibble out of some pickle, because amnesia can mean a whole lot of things where a vet’s concerned, especially one who looks this troubled, one who’s looking over his shoulder as much as this guy. If someone comes in off the street with a gun and no memory, maybe they’ve got bigger problems than what he wants to eat for breakfast.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” the guy answers, and Eliot smiles to himself, looks down the bar and back. 

“Try me.”

“No,” the guy answers, and Eliot narrows his eyes, shoves his tongue against his molars and breathes. 

The guy’s tried the cheese, he’s tried the bacon, when he tries the first patty he closes his eyes, his whole body easing up a little. Tension goes out of his shoulders, his head lifts and tilts back, his fingers still. 

“Mh,” he says. 

Eliot doesn’t smile but only because he’s trained himself not to. That’s enjoyment right there - guy didn’t dislike anything else except the raw onions, but he _likes_ the patty. Eliot’s about to ask him something else but right then is when he seems satisfied with his food assessment and, after one quick nibble of each of the rest of the layers for confirmation or something, he shoves everything back together. Then he really starts to eat. 

“I can work this off,” he says through a mouthful, when he’s about halfway through, “I’m…it’s good, I wa- I can- I can’t pay you but I can work it off,” but Eliot just looks at him.

“You asked for me,” he says. “My friends.”

The guy blinks.

“We find people,” Eliot clarifies, “do things. You need help with somethin’?”

And the guy goes tense again, stops chewing without swallowing, and then his gaze slides left. _Then_ he swallows hard.

“This place secure?” he says, his voice low, all the geniality gone out of it, no more conversation - just business.

“Not here,” Eliot answers, tilts his head towards the doors. “But back there.”

The guy visibly considers it. 

“I’m Jack,” he says, and…

Eliot knows he’s lying. Its not just the choice of name, but the fact that somewhere in his brain Eliot knows who this is, and he’s not ‘Jack.’ Still, he’s here, and Hardison will have his ID by now as long as the picture on the video feed’s stayed clear. And, after everything, trust begets trust. 

“I’m Eliot,” he says.

~

Hardison has No Idea who this guy is, except he’s got this weird feeling of knowing who he is. Dude gets his burger and eats a little weird to start with, but the facial recognition’s stumped and here Hardison is with the weird-ass feeling he should be asking for an autograph. This an actor or something?

“Hey, who’s that guy?” he says, feeling his brow furrow.

“I dunno,” Parker answers, which is fair - she’s not exactly big on pop culture. “You know him?”

Hardison shakes his head. 

“Nope,” he says. 

Not personally anyhow. 

He’s got his weird feeling about it too, like Eliot isn’t as worried as he should be. And like okay, fair, that’s how Hardison feels at least half the time, but this is different. Somehow Hardison knows that the guy doesn’t look right.

~

“I wanna bring my friends out to talk to you,” Eliot says as ‘Jack’ starts on his fries.

‘Jack’ pauses again with his food halfway to his mouth, like he can’t think and eat at the same time.

“Why?” he says, but then tries a fry.

Then he tries three more. 

“Because that’s what we do, we come talk to you. Figure things out. So we can do you a favor.”

“I can’t pay you,” ‘Jack’ says, but Eliot finds himself narrowing his eyes, trying to figure the guy out.

“That’s not why we do it,” he says. 

“Why do you do it?” ‘Jack’ asks, without a moment’s pause, and Eliot doesn’t need to think about the answer but he likes to nonetheless.

“Because we’re the good guys,” he says. “And it’s the right thing to do.”

“I’m not a good person,” ‘Jack’ says. “And you prob’ly won’t wanna help.”

Eliot leans back a little. That implies a lot, and he feels like he’s digging them deeper with every word.

“Then why’d you come to us?” he says. 

“’Cause you’re good people,” the guy says. “And I need good people.”

***

“These are my buddies,” Eliot says quietly as Hardison sits down next to Eliot and Parker sits down next to Hardison, because he doesn’t want to do anything too loudly and Hardison really didn’t want ‘Jack’ upstairs for whatever reason. “Hardison,” Hardison lifts his hand off the table a little like a close-quarters wave, “and Parker.” Parker just sort of nods.

As it is, Eliot’s painfully aware that this is not an easily defensible location. 

‘Jack’ doesn’t say anything. 

“What kinda job you need?” Hardison asks, because they might as well come right out and say it, but ‘Jack’ frowns.

“I don’t want to talk about it where there are too many people,” he says. “Which one of you can hack into security systems?”

Eliot doesn’t look at Hardison. Parker does, and then Hardison eases up a little because he’s always a little too pleased when his reputation precedes him.

“I don’t wanna brag,” Hardison says, and ‘Jack’ looks at him, face blank. “Y’all already know what you want, I can respect that.”

“I’m not stupid,” ‘Jack’ says. “I’m just brain-damaged.”

Eliot feels Hardison freeze and, his hand already about that level, touches the backs of his knuckles to Hardison’s waist as an anchor - it’s okay, he didn’t know, he hasn’t been around vets like Eliot has. Parker says,

“How’d you get brain-damaged?” and this time Eliot can’t help it - he definitely looks at Parker.

So does Hardison, they must look like a row of Russian dolls - but ‘Jack’ seems pleased about her attitude. His mouth turns up just a little at one corner, but it drops again before he answers.

“Torture,” he says, and Parker says,

“Huh.”

That seems to be good enough for him, and he sets his hand - just the one hand - on the table.

“What they did to me they can do to a select few others,” ‘Jack’ says. “And me again.”

“So you want, what, payback?” Eliot asks, and ‘Jack’ shakes his head. 

He looks at all three of them in turn but his gaze comes back and settles on Eliot, eyes open.

“It wasn’t overseas. It was domestic. And I want to stop them doing it again,” he says.

~

They don’t power up the surveillance when they take Jack upstairs. They sit with him and settle in, Alec’s got a laptop he can angle away from the guy - there’s something about him. He’s not sure, even with the blank stare and stilted sentences, that he trusts the guy. This isn’t like other jobs - this isn’t someone sad in a sweater who’s come in to talk about their family, some employee who’s been messed around by some suit-and-tie bigwig. Those jobs are important, but in a completely different way. He gets this feeling this is more like VerdAgra or Wakefield Agricultural all over again. 

Worse, he’s worried it’s going to wind up like DC. 

“So listen, man,” he says to Jack, “there’s information we need before we get into this, you know? Who to go after, what you’re trying to do, what you want us to-”

“You’re a crew,” Jack answers, “I need a crew.”

At least the silence in the room suggests that Alec’s not the only one surprised by that particular development.

“O-kay,” he says, “that’s…not really the MO here, you know, you give us the rundown, we solve the problem.”

He waits a couple of seconds for this to sink in, because Jack doesn’t seem to be surprised or put out by this, and then Jack says,

“If we’re doing this, you need me along.”

Eliot visibly bristles. 

“We don’t work that way,” he says, voice rougher than it was downstairs, and Alec tries to think of a way to bring everybody back down again when Jack turns his head just so and, suddenly, Alec gets it. 

Alec, much like everyone else in the world, has been sifting through online detritus for the last year or so. This isn’t an actor. It isn’t even some famous politician dude - Alec wouldn’t have recognized him at all except he happened to look just like his picture for half a second. 

His hair’s as long now as Eliot’s used to be, his stubble thick enough that it’s almost a beard. And, most importantly, if Alec is right then ‘Jack’ is wearing a photostatic veil - must be - over his arm. Alec knows exactly who this is and, subsequently, exactly what he means by ‘brain damage’ and ‘torture’.

“Wait,” Alec says, quietly, like Eliot was quiet with him before, “wait, hold on a damn minute…”

Everyone else in the room looks at him.

“Sir,” he says, very slowly, and very, very carefully, “is your name Barnes?”

~

It has been a very long time since anyone called him that. Even Steve didn’t call him that, and Bucky is endlessly grateful that the guy picked his surname first, he’s not sure he could have handled hearing the nickname come from anyone who wasn’t Steve. Not without introduction anyway.

He’s done his background checks on them, as much as he was able, and he’s heard the hearsay, collected stories. These people are who they say they are, and who they say they are are _Allies._

“Okay so that’s why I couldn’t tell you everything downstairs,” he says. “I know everybody’s still looking at me and seeing the Winter Soldier.”

He can see, the moment he says it, the difference in the room around him. It’s a nice place, all glass and hardwood, with tech they’re not implementing and a whole lot more that’s hidden, he imagines. He wouldn’t put himself anywhere the surveillance isn’t hidden, and there’s a clear exit _but, crucially_ , Eliot Spencer’s reaction to the moniker is genuine, Parker’s expression has changed, too - Bucky wouldn’t have called that. Even she knows who the Soldier is. But they all seem surprised, none of them were expecting this - and Bucky came to _them_. Hardison seemed to realize his identity truthfully, so he doesn’t think it was planned, Parker sits very still.

But Eliot Spencer goes rigid in a way that looks like he’s about to bust something internal. 

~

Eliot’s stomach is a brick. It’s a knot made of steel cable. 

This is it, isn’t it?

The Winter Soldier’s in their home and Eliot’s heart is in his mouth because he knows-

He _knows,_ that if the _Winter Soldier_ is in their home then he has no chance. Not for himself, that’s a given - but even _if_ he can keep the Winter Soldier at bay for long enough for Alec and Parker to escape, _which he can’t,_ it’s the _Winter Soldier -_ he has _not a chance_ of keeping them safe after. No matter what he does, it won’t be enough. They’ll never be safe again, especially without him there to protect them. They’ll look over their shoulders for the rest of their very short lives. The Winter Soldier doesn’t leave targets.

Not to mention there’s a brewpub full of people downstairs while The Archetypal Dog-With-A-Bone is in their home upstairs, and Eliot’s the kind of guy who actually thinks about civilians, sue him.

It makes his throat tight, makes his eyes itch. He’s going to die, and that was always on the table, sure, he was never gonna reach old age, but that still won’t keep _them safe._

“What do you want?” he says - there are two exits because he made sure there were two exits, and that Parker and Hardison knew both well in advance, maybe the Winter Soldier only has one target - he doesn’t leave targets but he does leave witnesses, sometimes.

Rarely. 

“You know what I want,” the Winter Soldier answers, and _that’s_ why he kept one hand off the table - one of his hands is metal so it’s covered with something, a glove or something, that doesn’t have body hair, _that’s_ why it looked weird. 

“Eliot,” Parker says, like she’s confused, but Eliot doesn’t look at her even though he can see her looking at him out the corner of his eye. 

“Why,” he says. “Why us?”

“I heard about you,” he says. “One of the people on Hydra’s files had a company ruined through ‘chance’ and I looked into it, looked up some of the people you’ve helped.”

So he’s come for revenge and he’s killed people they helped. You don’t get away from the Winter Soldier. There’s odds on everything but _not this._ Eliot doesn’t have enough time to say everything he wants to say, wouldn’t know how to say it if he did.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the Winter Soldier says, and he lifts both hands to chest level, palms out - hands up, and Eliot’s pulse roars in his ears. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Eliot,” Hardison says, but it’s quiet-

~

“Eliot, hey,” Alec says, “hey, hey,” and Eliot looks at him with movements that are jerky, like twitches, eyes wide, he keeps looking back at Barnes. It’s really unnerving actually. “Remember I said I was lookin’ through files you didn’t need to see? From Insight?”

Eliot just looks at him for a long few seconds.

“You need a Stand Down?” Hardison murmurs, because maybe he does. 

“Look, I-I can go,” James Barnes says, and Hardison looks at him then, holds out a hand.

“Nah, hold on,” he says, and then turns his attention back to Eliot. “Remember I said I’d show you once I figured it all out? Huh? Eliot?”

“What? Yeah?” Eliot says.

“Hydra were into all kinds of nasty,” he says. “Remember I said they’d been makin’ algorithms, and stealing money, okay, remember I said they’d been torturing a P.O.W?” 

Eliot looks at him for a long few seconds. 

“Yeah?” he says, his voice rough, and Alec puts one hand on Eliot’s knee under the desk.

He’ll get it in a second, Alec knows he will, he just needs a second. 

“Yeah,” he says, and there it is. He goes from high alert to ‘are you serious’ in the space of half a second. “This- The _Winter Soldier_ is the P.O.W?”

“This is the P.O.W,” Alec nods. “He’s just a dude. Well,” he tilts his head a little. “Sort of.”

Eliot searches Alec’s face, then glances at Parker’s, then looks at James Barnes. Whose name he doesn’t know yet, this is gonna be interesting.

“Eliot,” Alec says quietly, “Parker…meet Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.”

Eliot just about swallows his tongue, Alec sees him. 

_“Suh-_ are you seri-”

Then he looks at James Barnes. Alec looks at James Barnes too.

“Wait, I’ve heard of you.” Parker says. “Both yous?”

“Everybody’s heard of me,” James Barnes answers.

“James Buchanan Barnes?” Eliot says. “You’re James _Buchanan_ Barnes?”

“Yeah,” says Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the One-Oh-Seventh. “That James Barnes. And, like I said, I already told you what I want. I don’t want to hurt you-”

“I know,” Alec says, tips his head towards Eliot. “He’ll get it.”

“You’re ninety-six,” Eliot says, with a _look_ in Alec’s direction.

“Ninety-seven,” James Barnes says, and Parker makes a noise.

“Lookin’ good for ninety-seven,” she says, and Barnes looks straight at her.

“Cryofreeze,” he says - already figured out he can give Parker straight answers, okay.

“Like Disney,” she says, and looks at Alec and Eliot. “Right?”

“Less said about Disney the better,” Barnes answers. “But yeah. Sorta. I mean, it’s just his head and he hated guys like me but yeah, sure. Why not.”

Parker gasps. 

“The Disney thing is real?” she mutters, but Eliot handles that with a lean back and a low-key _“not now,”_ while Alec sits forward.

“So you wanna take down Hydra’s torturers,” he says. “And you think we can help with that.”

And Bucky Barnes leans back in his chair and takes a deep breath in through his nose.

“No,” he says. “It’s not as simple as that. Most of the work is being handled because all of SHIELD’s records are on the Internet, thanks to my friend and his friend.” Alec makes a note of that, that resentment. He sees Eliot’s eyes narrow, too, watches Eliot put his arms on the desk out the corner of his eye. “You know what they did to me, to countless others. You know how they made me what I was. I didn’t get any choice in it, I didn’t get any choice in who found out about it, but it’s there. You know.”

Alec nods a little, slow. He does. He’s had to walk away and take a day or two sometimes - there’s a reason he doesn’t show Parker and Eliot. 

“The Chairs,” Bucky Barnes says, and okay, okay, _okay,_ the Chairs, Alec breathes. They’re going straight into this, huh?

“Okay,” Alec says. “Electroconvulsive mind-wiping,” he says to Eliot, and Eliot’s head turns fast. “Yeah, I didn’t know they could do it either, I think a lot of people are damned lucky it wasn’t common knowledge.”

“It only works on me,” Bucky Barnes says. “Or…people like me. I’m enhanced, also against my will,” Alec’s about to mention that he knows, but Eliot and Parker don’t, and Barnes seems to be sparing them the gorier details. “It didn’t kill me when they jacked me up in captivity in forty-two, didn’t kill me when I fell off a train in forty-five, and then they figured out the chair wouldn’t kill me either, so they just kept doing it until they figured out how to make it stick. A wipe’d last about three days eventually. They’d have to do it again after that. It’d kill anyone else, _unless_ they were also enhanced.”

Eliot’s hands go white-knuckled he clenches his fists so hard. 

“Well there were chairs everywhere,” Barnes says. “HYDRA was everywhere, so I had to be accessible everywhere. Collapsible apparatus stored in banks, mansions, bunkers, anywhere, assembled when they needed to wipe me.”

Parker lifts her head like she’s smelled something bad, shakes it a little.

“They’re gone. All of them. I’ve been destroying them, every last one, and I got the last one last week.” Bucky Barnes says. “Vault of the Central Reserve Bank Building in New York, the guy that owns it. He’s with them.”

“Damn,” Alec whispers. 

“So what do you need us to do?” Eliot says. “Seems to me you got a handle on it, so what’s the play?”

“Alistair Richmond owns the building, runs the bank,” Barnes answers. “And he’s got the plans for the chair.”

~

“We can take him out,” Eliot says, because he can, Eliot’s good like that. 

They’ve never done it, but she and Hardison have both had stuff where they wanted to kill somebody and Eliot’s always said that he’ll do it if they want. 

Because he cares, even when he pretends he doesn’t. Which he doesn’t do a lot these days anymore, it’s nice. 

“Car crash,” she says. 

“Mugging,” Eliot answers, and she shrugs.

“Yeah. It’d be easy in New York.”

“No,” Barnes answers. “I mean, I want him dead, I want all of them dead. But he’s a coward, he could be useful. He might lead Steve to others.”

“Steve?” Parker says, and Hardison looks at her.

“Steve Rogers,” he says. “Captain America.”

Holy crap, _that_ Bucky Barnes.

“There’s a way in,” Barnes says. “But it’s not a big window. They updated the security when I broke in, the whole floor’s wired and off the main system with no wireless access, and he’ll have HYDRA on staff undercover if he has any contacts left, because he should be worried that I’ll come back. _But_ , the communications system’s still wide open. They can’t get the decorators or the contractors in for an upgrade on that until the weekend - they don’t allow cellphones in the building but you can tap the building’s infolines, read his emails, check his records, maybe hack the SatPhone.”

Hardison nods, and then Barnes looks at Eliot. 

“I want him dead, don’t get me wrong. And I appreciate the offer, but if you kill him, the wrong people might get a hold of those plans. HYDRA was SHIELD for decades,” Barnes says. “So if you turn those files in, if those files end up at SHIELD, there’s no telling _who’ll_ get them, or even who’ll just get access. Everybody in the files online, they’ve been found, taken out, or they will be soon. But not everybody in HYDRA was in the files. They liked their paper over digital, they liked their secrets.”

Hardison sits back then, blows out a breath. That sucks - you can’t hack paper. 

“Richmond wasn’t on the books,” Barnes continues, “and without a papertrail, even if I can get Steve to believe it, there’s no proof. He’ll go free. Without a papertrail, I’ve got nothing, and the only thing linking him to HYDRA is those plans. I need them. Even if I can’t prove it, I can destroy them.”

Hardison sits back in his chair, crosses his arms and looks distant for a moment.

He’s thinking, which means this is gonna be good.

“I can make a papertrail,” he says. “Where does Richmond keep his paperwork?”

***

“These are the bank blueprints,” Hardison says, pulling them up on the screens. “Few days from now, Mizz Jenny Clarke’s gonna open up a safety deposit box in the Central Reserve Bank in New York.”

“Why, on mah honor!” Parker says, pressing her hand to her chest. 

“She’s gonna have a few little things to leave in certain places, plus a packet of papers to keep under lock and key, and _then,_ ” he pulls up a little picture of a sweet little button he designed himself, “magnetic pressure sensor trip on a timer with a smoke screen for the sensors - put it anywhere in the vault and, in five days it-” he pops his lips “-drops off its surface and-” he smacks his hand down on the table “-hits the floor of the vault. Now why’s she doing this? Well, in five days, Richmond’s holding a viewing of a Gustav Klimt on his private floor, and he’s hiring private security to do it as per a clause in his Insurance policy. Eliot, that’s your in.”

“Mine too,” Bucky Barnes says. “I can stop Richmond going to ground-” but Eliot really doesn’t like that idea. 

“No,” he says. “If Richmond has the plans, has HYDRA on staff, _and_ has you? Then it’s fine if we pull it off, but if we don’t, they get you back and they can hurt you again.”

“You have a hundred percent success rate,” Barnes answers. 

“There’s a reason we work well as a team and it’s because we know how to work with each other. You’re a wild card - worse, they know that, they know _you.”_

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Barnes says, but Hardison smiles. 

“We could do it that way,” he says, “or…”

The next picture he pulls up is of Captain America. It’s a paparazzo shot of him, long-lens and grainy, mid-stride as he goes for a morning run in DC. Eliot keeps an eye on Barnes but he doesn’t seem put off by it - just as well for a nonegenarian P.O.W with brain damage and PTSD. He’ll have to talk to Hardison about springing stuff on him that could be trigger images.

“Steve Rogers, a.k.a the Sentinel of Liberty, a.k.a Captain freaking America,” Hardison says.

Eliot holds his tongue. Time was, he might start making guesses. _How are we gonna get Red White and Golden Boy to show up? Send him a text?_ But he learned a long time ago that Hardison always has a plan.

“Now, I might’a seen the Cap exhibit last time I was in D.C,” Hardison says. “And it might’a mentioned a certain superhero used to be an art student.”

“That’s right,” Barnes says, almost to himself. “He loves art.”

“He loves his Arts Deco and Nouveau _specifically,”_ Hardison says, and pulls up a picture of the painting and a couple of contemporaries. “He likes his contemporaries, too - there’s a couple pieces in the Smithsonian Rogers painted in art school’d make Sheeler look like a preschool finger-painting.”

Barnes smiles in a way that’s fond, a look that’s almost out of place on his features, and still a little stilted.

He’s not the only one who likes Nouveau either, Parker makes the kind of noise for the Klimt she usually only makes at pictures of baby rabbits.

“So how do we get him there?” Barnes says, and Hardison waves his tablet with a grin.

“Already sent him an invite,” he says. “Guest of honor list, be real rude to refuse. Maybe a little bodyguard work suggested too, y’know, dear Cap I’m worried for my life and don’t know where to turn…”

“And Richmond ain’t gonna notice he didn’t invite Captain America?” Eliot asks.

“Nah,” Hardison says. “Not until he’s in the building. Guy like that, you think he writes his own guest lists? Rich boys, man, they got two guys for everything. Eliot’ll meet Cap on-site and tell him to keep it on the down-low . Long as he’s got an invite - and he’s got an invite - nobody’ll look twice at your boy. All we need him to do is show.”

“He’ll be there,” Barnes says, “he’s chasing me and I’ve been leaving him breadcrumbs - I’ll lead him there, so he’ll be there.”

“A’right, now,” Hardison says. “We can’t hack the alarm system, it’s not on the main system, it’s isolated. Without me bein’ in the vault, I can’t access the hub, and the only way to get in the vault is to disable the alarm, which would take longer than they’d give me, if they even left me alone in there. So we just set the system off with this smart little thing over here, make it look like someone’s breaking into the vault. And then Richmond has to go down and check it but, more importantly,” Hardison answers, and points at Eliot, “Ex Staff Sergeant Matthew Fraser-”

Eliot waves.

“-will be on standby.”

“And Steve will definitely never leave that alone if he’s already there, so he’ll be with Richmond,” Barnes nods.

“And if one of those safety deposit boxes happened to be registered to Alistair Richmond and he had the key in his pocket…”

“Well y’all would just _hafta_ check it,” Parker says, and then drops the Southern Belle and shrugs one shoulder. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Barnes says. “And then Steve gets the file.”

“And maybe we get some incriminating stuff from that phoneline you mentioned I could bug, play that through the PA system.”

“I still don’t think you should be on-site,” Eliot says, but Barnes shakes his head.

“I have to,” he says. “Richmond won’t take any risks unless he’s sure I’m there, _especially_ with Steve on-site. Besides which, Steve might not buy it unless he knows I’m involved.”

“Nah, nah,” Hardison says, “I have a _much_ better idea.”

***

“Okay - uniforms are no problem, GenOne Security have their staff photos on their website, and they’re still running on standard communications - senior staff get wires and earpieces but your boy Rogers’ll get a walkie. That, I got in my closet, ain’t no thing.”

Hardison nods. 

“Then we’ll clone his cell too so we know if he’s calling reinforcements. Now, I’m in charge of the info packet, but you know how to lay it down,” Hardison tells him, and brings things up on the screen. “I need information to put one together but the good thing is that all’a Hydra’s official documentation is now the property of the world wide dubya, so…” he shrugs his shoulder. “It ain’t so hard to put together long as you can tell me what I’m looking for.”

Bucky nods, and thinks carefully about what he needs. 

“I…have no idea what to plant on this guy. It needs to be convincing-”

“Don’t worry about that,” Hardison answers. “That’s the diff. It’s not a plant. It’s…like signposts. Every op I tie him to will be from Hydra’s books, every penny he hacked into will be from their funds-”

“No, he’s,” Bucky says, that’s not right, “he doesn’t hack for Hydra, he redirects from the bank. He…cooks the, he…”

The answers don’t always come - it’s better now than it was, but he still struggles. The words he wants are never right there on his tongue.

“Sk-imming,” he says eventually, like a weight off his chest.

“He’s skimmin’ from the top, huh,” Hardison says without a moment’s hesitation, and Bucky realizes he waited the whole time for Bucky to get the word without putting it in his mouth for him. “Not surprisin’ considerin’ that’s where scum is usually found?”

Bucky huffs a laugh. 

“Yeah,” he says. “But yeah, I…he covered his tracks, he owns the place. But I know his money was used for it ‘cause he wouldn’t have the plans if he wasn’t high up. And he knew Pierce.”

Hardison does a very good job of hiding his reaction to that one. 

“Okay,” he says. “A’right, Pierce. Cool. Cool.”

“You can freak out if you want,” Bucky says, and Hardison sits back like he needs to stretch.

“Just, I mean, y’know, man, it’s just, it’s big, you know?” he says all in one breath. “It ran deep, Alexander G. _Pierce_ , man-”

And the thing is, Bucky always flinches at the whole thing. He can’t help it, it’s a tic, they programmed it in. Eye-contact dangerous, always arm your handler when you meet (which is halfway to being what made him give Eliot the empty gun in the bar), and Some Names Inspire Fear.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, can, uh. Can I touch you?” Hardison says, and Bucky looks at him.

“What?” he says.

“Just my hand on your shoulder, you okay with that?” 

Bucky blinks at him for a moment or two. That’s a question nobody’s asked him ever as far as he can remember. 

“I…am?” he says, and Hardison claps his hand down on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry about sayin’ it, anything else you need me to not-say?”

Hardison looks at him very intensely, and Bucky isn’t really sure what to say in response.

“Not that I know of?” he says. “Sometimes that kinda stuff happens. There’s a couple words in Russian but as long as you don’t go y-yellin’ those…”

Hardison shakes him by the shoulder and then lets go.

“Cool, man,” he says. “Y’all just let me know.”

Bucky continues to look at him for a long few moments before he goes back to looking at the screens.

“Anything you can think of that they did, the files might be online. You know? So if I can find it, I can put his name on it.”

“Nothing to do with the chair,” Bucky says. “They barely put any of that on actual paper, let alone online. I know I saw him at places though, when they used to trot me out for powerplays. Nothing says ‘I own this party’ like keeping your killing machine on a leash.”

Hardison breathes out slowly.

“I know you prob’ly ain’t a huggin’ man,” Hardison says, “but I happen to be a huggin’ man, just in case you change your mind.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says. “Maybe I’ll take you up on it sometime.”

“But what I’m sayin’ to you is, all I have to do is compile. You know some of what he was into, just tell me that and we can write that down. Like a grocery list - somethin’ for your boy to look into.” 

Bucky nods.

“Okay,” he says. “Like a puzzle for Steve to put together, I can do that. I mean, I don’t know much but you’d be surprised what people will say in front of you if they think you’re not gonna remember it. Your boy ready?”

“My girl’s gettin’ my boy ready,” Hardison says, and Bucky feels something in his chest ease up a little. “Got the uniform from the security site, she’s gonna head on in tomorrow in this real nice dress we bought her - bought one of her aliases but, I mean, same thing - everything’s ready except this here package. And maybe give Eliot a code word or somethin’ too in case he needs Cap on-side.”

That makes sense, Bucky thinks. That way, if Steve sees it, it’ll mean something, and if someone else sees him it’ll mean nothing at all. And he likes contingency plans, he’s all for those.

“So,” he says, as Hardison starts pulling files from the mass of information on the display screens. “You and the girl, _and_ the guy, huh?”

Hardison smiles broadly, scrapes his teeth over his lower lip as he looks down, laughing quietly.

“Yeah,” he says. “Best people to ever happen to me, man - Parker first, and then Eliot just…fell in along the way, you know?”

“Mmm,” Bucky nods. “Yeah. I…I had a similar…uh. Carter was. Wi- With us.”

And it’s not really a risk, not really. These are friendlies. It still feels like a risk, though, and he’s still nervous until Hardison laughs again, that same low, pleased laugh.

“Yeah, man! He really is your boy, huh?” 

He holds out a fist to bump, and Bucky does. He uses the metal hand just to see what Hardison does, and Hardison doesn’t do anything. Huh. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Well, he _was_ anyhow. Seems to be doin’ fine without me, thank God.”

~

Alec isn’t really sure if he should be the one to do this, because it’s an awful thing to do, but this is the second time Bucky Barnes has said something weird to him about Steve Rogers, and he’s not really sure if Bucky Barnes gets it. 

Well, he’s a World War Two war vet with PTSD and brain-damage, who’s only been autonomous for maybe six months - there’s probably a lot he’s missing. 

“You read the HYDRA files?” he asks quietly, and Bucky Barnes shakes his head minutely.

“I lived it,” he says. “I don’t need to see it, not if I can avoid it. I searched a couple of things, to find people like Richmond, but…” he shrugs. “No. All that stuff Steve’s guys put on there can stay the hell away from me.”

Alec nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Okay. I respect that. But I…” Barnes looks at him, and it’s like Eliot looking at him, like the way Eliot _used_ to look at him when Eliot didn’t trust him. “I’m not gonna show you nothin’ you don’t wanna see. But I…don’t know if you know - it wasn’t just HYDRA’s files. It was _all_ the files.”

Barnes breathes very carefully through his nose, very evenly. He looks like he’s trying not to freak out.

“There’s the stuff about you,” he says, “although it’s buried pretty deep in there. There’s stuff about SHIELD and man, that’s a mess, it’s all a mess. Aliases all over the joint, mission briefings - it was a US intelligence agency, man. That kind of information it’s…A lot of people got caught up in it, good and bad. But…there’s video from canteens. Gym timetables. Surveillance. And your boy…I mean, there’s some stuff of your boy says maybe he wasn’t doing so well. You know?”

“Like psych reports?” Bucky Barnes asks, and Alec tilts his head. 

“No, he didn’t get those. He got tests and whatnot but they didn’t do psych evals. Maybe ‘cause they didn’t wanna find something they didn’t wanna see but…there were therapists on staff, and he never got therapists. There were psychs and doctors on staff and he didn’t see those.”

“He hates doctors.”

“I,” Alec nods again. “Sure. And I don’t wanna tell you your business but psych was mandatory for…almost everyone else. And a place like that, an organization like SHIELD, they don’t make exceptions just ‘cause’a who you are. There’s…”

He shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to say this without sounding like a stalker, or a weird rubbernecker, but…

“There’s surveillance from his place in DC,” Alec says. “I saw it once lookin’ for money trails ‘cause money rats are the kinda guys we go after, but it’s…He…wasn’t doing so good. I turned it off after a couple of entries, once I knew what it was, but it was. Bad.”

Bucky Barnes spends a few more seconds breathing and looking at Alec, and then he nods.

“Okay,” he says, and that’s fine, that’s fair.

“Yeah,” Alec says.

And Bucky Barnes thinks for a long few moments before he holds out a hand, for Alec to shake.

“Bucky,” he says.

“Alec,” Hardison answers, and they kind of stay there in limbo until Bucky lets go. “So, anyway, so, uh, if you wanna go grab Eliot and Parker you can maybe get lunch?”

“I don’t have any money,” Bucky Barnes answers, and Alec’s mind spins before he shakes his head a moment later.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I can afford it.”

***

“I like it,” Parker says. “You look nice.”

“I look like a Librarian,” Eliot answers, frowning at his reflection.

What a dork.

Navy blue with a white shirt and a bright blue tie - he’s using one of his other aliases so Hardison’s already made the badge, but it’s still on Eliot to get into the place. It won’t be hard but it’ll be harder in a suit he’s got to keep clean than it would be in his usual getup, harder to look neat than not-needing-to-look-neat is.

Parker smiles as she crunches through an apple.

“Eh,” she says.

When his hair was longer, he could pull it back into a tail. And normally it’s not an issue but with the glasses? This is just….weird. He looks like a doctor from a nineties medical drama.

“You’ll fit in,” she says. “I’m wearing my panda dress. You good on the plan?”

He is. How hard could it be?

He gets in, he corners Cap, he stays by the painting until it’s go-time, and then it’s a quick job and a fast exit. 

“I’m good on the plan,” he says, “what- hey-”

Parker’s straightening his tie, patting his chest just to check, then she arranges his lapel, then she dusts off his shoulders. Then she puts her elbow on his shoulder and leans on him, takes another bite of her apple. At least she’s eating fruit and not chocolate.

“Librarian’s too nerdy, I think you look more like a geek,” she says, and he rolls his eyes. 

Then she gets off him, and leans very close, and smiles as she speaks only briefly before she leaves.

“Good thing I have a type.”

And he’s gonna say something back, obviously, it’s just that y’know. He can’t think of anything right then, that’s all. 

He clears his throat.

Yeah, he- No, it’s fine. 

It’s fine.

~

“Hey, y’all wanna take our man down to the floor for lunch?” Alec says, just as Bucky Barnes is standing from his seat with a stretch. 

“Sure!” Parker says. “I feel like pizza!”

Bucky Barnes loses about three inches of height instantly, body tilting forward.

“Oh God, pizza,” he says, the way somebody in the middle of the desert might say ‘water,’ and Eliot’s mouth pulls at the corners. 

He’s still wary, Alec can get that, but he also knows Barnes a lot better than he or Parker might do. Death tolls and tours of combat, plus maybe those nights Eliot pretends he got up ‘cause he’s thirsty, instead of ‘cause he lives in a home with the world’s best thief and the world’s best hacker and still doesn’t trust their security enough to feel settled until he’s checked the perimeter.

Eliot laughs at PTSD. He doesn’t flinch at sirens, he doesn’t duck at gunfire, he doesn’t have panic attacks in grocery stores, and he doesn’t count abject-terror-at-losing-the-people-you-love, so they don’t talk about it much. Alec’s getting better at finding the right times (usually when he’s injured, tired, alone, or a combination of the three).

“We got a really good one on the menu,” he says, proud as always of his food, and rightfully so.

“Man, you gotta try the goat cheese,” Alec backs him up, and sometimes Alec’s expecting the kind of love Eliot can send his way with a glance and a flash of smile but most of the time it just takes his breath away. “Damn,” he mutters, because he can _feel_ how strong the blush is. 

His next move is uploading Eliot’s information and photo to GenOne’s staff database - he’s had a back door into GenOne for years. Besides which, once they’re next to the building, Alec can reroute any signals meant for GenOne to Lucille, so that won’t be an issue, just as long as ‘Matthew Fraser’ ends up on the rota for the Klimt exhibition (which he will).

“Stop, man, food’s on us,” he can hear Eliot saying, “‘cause you’re a _vet,”_ and honestly, how did it take Eliot so long to realize he was one of the good guys?

***

Amy’s eyebrows are way, way up when she brings the third pizza, but Eliot waves her off. Parker just grins. Barnes eats like he likes the food, which she likes him for.

“So you’re really ninety-seven?” she says, and Eliot looks at her funny but Barnes laughs very quietly, like Eliot laughs sometimes when he’s watching his shows when he thinks Parker and Hardison are both asleep. 

“Yep,” he says. “Only technically. Really I’m about thirty; they only let me out of cryofreeze for a little bit at a time.” 

“To kill people,” she says, and Eliot looks like somebody’s just yelled ‘boo.’

“Jesus, Parker,” he says. “You want everyone in here to call the cops?”

Barnes looks very tired. Maybe it’s all the food but probably not. 

“Yeah,” Barnes says. “To kill people.”

“That sucks,” she says, and Barnes laughs a little bit in a way that makes it sound like he wasn’t really laughing at all.

“Yeah it does,” he says.

“That’s what the chair’s for,” she says, and Eliot actually lifts his hands up.

“Parker!” he hisses, but Barnes looks at her. 

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s how they took me out of my head. Then they could put orders in.”

She nods.

“Yeah,” she says. “They made you into something they could use.”

And Barnes kind of opens up a little bit then. His eyes go a bit wider and his mouth opens a little bit and he stares for a long few seconds. 

“Yeah,” he says.

“Mhm,” and she grabs another slice of pizza. “It sucks, right?”

“It sucks,” he echoes. 

“Mah,” she nods, because you can’t say ‘yeah’ when your mouth is full of pizza. 

He relaxes a moment later, turns away and goes for more pizza.

“You eat like a champ,” Parker tells him, and he chuckles, genuinely this time. 

“Can’t help it,” he says. “I burn off more than most.”

“Like Cap,” Eliot says, and Barnes nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “A little. Damn, this is good.”

Eliot bites back a smile, she can see him do it. 

“House recipe,” she says. “Eliot’s Head Chef.”

“I’m,” he says, “I’m not,” but that’s not true.

“You are,” she says “It’s just you’re not always in the kitchen.”

Eliot has a funny face on, and Barnes sees it too - she knows because he looks at Eliot and then makes a snorfle noise through his nose.

“Compliments to the chef,” Barnes says, and Eliot puts his hand over his mouth and turns away a little bit.

Parker doesn’t say anything about how cute he is when somebody compliments him but she’s pretty sure he knows how she feels.

***

“You’re staying with us,” Eliot says, around eleven, and Barnes looks like he’s gonna protest but Alec manages to get there first.

“Yeah,” he says. “We got a camp bed, you good with that?”

Barnes’ mouth is open because he was about to say no, but his eyes slide sideways.

“Uh,” he says.

“Which hotel you stayin’ in?” Alec asks, because he’s pretty sure he knows the answer. 

Barnes just looks at him.

“I,” he says.

“Which park bench you sleepin’ on?” Eliot asks instead, and Barnes ducks his head. 

He hasn’t yet taken off his baseball cap, so he looks like he’s ready to make a run for it with half a second’s notice.

He probably is.

“You’re staying with us,” Parker says quietly, and she puts her arm through his and walks him over to the kitchen counter.

“I’ll get the cot,” Alec says.

“I’ll take first watch,” Eliot says, and Barnes looks at him in surprise, and then shuts his mouth, nods. “We’ll drive to New York tomorrow - presuming you can’t fly with that thing.”

“Thanks,” he says.

Eliot doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. 

It’s been a while since they had a guest, but it’s not hard to forget how to treat a good man in a bad situation. 

When it’s all set up, and Barnes is settling down, Parker says goodnight to Eliot quietly, kisses his cheek briefly. Alec goes for a proper one because Eliot did good today, real good today, and they say goodnight like it’s not about to be one of the biggest jobs they’ve ever done.

It’s not like this is a Steranko, this isn’t overthrowing a whole country’s government. 

It’s just an international underground nazi conspiracy threat which they’re undertaking to prevent the further torture, nonconsensual enhancement, and brainwashing of innocent people. 

Piece of cake.

***

Barnes wakes only once in the night, with a whimper Eliot pretends he hasn’t heard. Neither of them say anything. Barnes goes back to sleep. 


	3. The Setup

Alistair Richmond is not a man who has the time of day for stupidity or timewasters. He didn’t get where he is by entertaining idiots, nor did he reach his particular heights by having bad ideas. The difference between Alistair Richmond and other one-percenters currently flooding the market with bought-back stocks and insider trading is that Alistair Richmond was picked for his job for three reasons. The first of these is that he’s very intelligent. The second is that he’s very, very good with money. And the third is that he is, without exception, cruel. 

His secretary is the third secretary he’s had in the last six months. The last one he fired because she fell pregnant, despite it being a stipulation of the job to avoid it. He didn’t say that, of course - he doctored his calendar to make it look like she’d made a mistake. His new secretary is a terrified young man whose competence barely makes up for his simpering attitude, with most of the standard staff being interns. Some of them are paid--most are not--and some aren't even on the books at all. He's found it saves on insurance if you don't declare your workers. 

The best part is, it’s all legal. There’ve been some donations made to congressmen and governors here and there, of course, but everything he does to keep the Central Reserve in business is absolutely legitimate. Likewise for the funds he’s diverted - other types of donations, tax deductions, cuts in his own salary from time to time, all for a higher purpose.

He’s got senior staff, of course - people who’ve been with him for the duration of his lucrative career and hold many of the same principles, but there aren’t many of them and they are the exception to his irritation for paid staff. They are also only useful for as long as they are _useful_ \- just because they’ve been around a relative while doesn’t make them exempt from his rules. 

Married twice and currently ‘seeing’ a very sweet young masochist who always does what he’s told - which frankly is getting boring - Alistair Richmond has one major problem on his plate today, and that’s that his Klimt is going to go on display with his insurance company’s recommended security guards, and not the ones he actually trusts with his life, money and possessions.

He’s going to call GenOne, by which he means his secretary is going to call them, and find out at least which idiots they’re going to send in his direction, but he knows full well that it’s going to be far from an impressive crew. His intention is to keep all of his own men on staff in addition to the GenOne amateurs, but it never hurts to have some knowledge of the kind of people he’s going to have to deal with. 

He buzzes his secretary - God only knows the name - and he rushes in to find out what he wants so quickly that he almost falls. It’s inelegant and irritating but he’ll do for now, at least he knows how to send people to HR when they’re past their usefulness. 

“Call GenOne,” he says. “Find out which idiots in particular they’re sending, I want files on all of them.”

“Yes, Mr Richmond,” he says, like an elementary schoolchild, and he’ll find a reason to fire him soon, anything’s better than listening to him whinge. 

Alistair’s Klimt exhibition has been on the cards for a long time now - two and a half years, in fact, so it’s not something he can cancel at such short notice - and it’s only a week and a half since the place was robbed but, given that the Winter Soldier’s been hitting places all over the country without a single death, and hasn’t returned to a single site he’s hit, Alistair’s not concerned. The pathetic coward even broke in after hours, presumably to avoid the bustle of a normal day. The way he is now, he’s barely a threat.

But the next problem Alastair Richmond is about to encounter is one that’s far too late to solve. As he pulls up his information, to check and double check, he finds a new name on the list. His attention to important detail is unparalleled and he knows that he’s got one hundred and thirteen people on the list, so when he notes that the header says one-hundred-and-fifteen, he knows there are two people there that he has not approved. One of them, unfortunately for him, is unrecognizable. He’s got one hundred and thirteen diplomats, politicians, art historians and peers to make nice with; he doesn't bother with remembering all their names - those particular details don’t serve any purpose. So he doesn’t know who one-hundred-and-fourteen is, he could be anyone. 

But one one five? 

“How the hell,” he says, staring at the digital invite - to which an RSVP has _already been received_ , “did _Captain Goddamn America_ get on my guest list?”

~

Jenny Clarke was born in New Orleans, the latest in a long family bloodline, whose previous occupations stretched all the way back to plantation owners. She knows what she wants, and she won’t put up with nonsense - a hundred and fifty years ago she’d’ve had a parasol and a big, fluffy gown, but today she’s in a gray silk sheath dress and dark sunglasses, dark hair in waves around her shoulders. 

In her purse, she carries her identification documents, a cellular telephone, and the package she wants kept safe. 

Her heels are loud on the lobby floor, her legs long enough to make sure nobody’s looking at her face, and her earbud is hidden by virtue of its size. She doesn’t carry a parasol.

“Ahm here to see somebody ‘bout a safety deposit box?” Parker coos at the suit on the front desk.

“Uh,” he says, (because who wouldn’t in the face of ‘Jenny Clarke’?) and she smiles as she slides her sunglasses down to the end of her nose, green contacts just piercing enough to seem unreal without seeming fake. 

_“Cassandra Pyle,_ ” Hardison says in her ear, presumably checking the digital ledger, and she smiles.

“With Cassandra Pyle?”

Hardison changed the appointments list last night - Jenny Clarke is early but Parker? She’s right on time. 

“Uh, certainly, Ma’am,” the kid on the desk says, his tag reads _Andrew._ “I-If you’d like to take a seat over by the, uh…the waiting area.”

“Thank ya,” she says, fingers fixing a bug to the back of the big silver ‘C’ on the front desk while her body conceals it, “Andy,” and then slides her sunglasses back up onto her face.

~

“Specific type of person wears sunglasses indoors,” Hardison says, and Bucky snorts. 

“An idiot?” he says.

“Close,” Hardison answers, although he likes Bucky’s style. “Someone who thinks they’re important.” 

“Same difference,” Eliot says.

“Rich kids wear white ‘cause they never get dirty, rich adults wear sunglasses so you can’t see their eyes,” Hardison says.

Bucky nods. 

“Right.”

~

“I got the front desk,” Alec says as the clone of it pops up, which he mentions partially so Parker knows it’s worked, partially to keep Eliot and Bucky updated. 

Parker’s got about five minutes before her appointment, and she knows her specific set of instructions backwards, but Alec can see Bucky’s nervous. He lifts his head sharply, half a nod to get Eliot’s attention while Bucky’s watching the screens, and Eliot glances at Alec and then gets it a second later.

“Plan is she places some ‘trators, goes into the vault with the boxes,” Eliot says. “Leaves the packet, leaves the bug. Real easy.”

“Traitors?” Bucky asks, but Eliot answers that one.

 _“Infil_ trators,” he says. “Help get us into the systems we can get into.”

Bucky nods.

“Right,” he says. “And…Richmond has no reason to suspect her. No?”

“It’s not even on his radar - this is a brand new ID,” Alec says. “At most, they check her ID against the DMV, but I got that covered too.”

Alec reaches out and puts one hand on Bucky’s elbow before he draws it back, and he sees but ignores the look Eliot gives him. 

“She’s safe,” Eliot says, and Bucky nods, then shakes his head, then looks away from the computer screen.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”

He starts to move, too and, for a second, Alec thinks he might try and leave which…okay, wouldn’t be the end of the world but Lucille’s only a block away from the bank and Bucky Barnes’ distinctive metal arm won’t be hard to miss on a sunny day like today, gloves or no. Plus it’s _New York_ \- if there’s anywhere he’s gonna get recognized, it’ll be here. Only worse place they could have parked would be Brooklyn. 

“Hey,” Eliot says, and Alec’s a little wary of what he’s going to say. “You choose to follow Rogers?” he says, and Bucky looks at him. 

“Yeah?” he says, like _what of it?_ and Eliot nods.

“Right,” he says. “So?” 

Bucky breathes a long breath out through his nose. 

“This guys’ bad,” he says. “This guy is _bad_ , he’s _bad-_ ”

“And Parker’s _good_ ,” Alec says. “It’s okay.”

“Why she’s,” Bucky says, and then he shakes his head. “Sorry, that’s not what I…” he takes a breath. 

“It’s okay, man, take your time,” Alec says.

~

Parker takes a seat near the furthest column in the lobby, just like they figured. This time of day, the seat’s even free, which means it isn’t difficult at all to plant the next bug against the cable conduit she’s near. 

All it takes is a false drop from one hand with the bug in the other, followed by some nice southern-style cussin’-

“Ooh, fudge nuggets!” 

-and then she leans against the wall with one hand and reaches down for her purse with the other. Anybody watching her isn’t about to be paying attention to her hand anyway, so nobody sees that she comes up with her purse in one hand and the other hand empty.

“Clumsy as a foal on ice, that’s me,” she says to nobody in particular. 

~

_’Miss Jennifer Clarke?’_

_“Oh my word, it’s Jenny, please. I’ve made an appointment with y’all about a safety deposit box?”_

Bucky stares at Eliot for a long couple of seconds, looking pained. 

Alec watches them for a second or two but he’s got Parker on the line and he needs to be able to give her anything at a moments’ notice, so he gives Eliot a look instead. Eliot gives him a nod in return, he can handle this, and Alec watches Cassandra Pyle lead Jenny Clarke into a little consulting room to make her paperwork official. Gotta love banks who turn to tech to speed their process up - Jenny Clarke’s online applications were filled in last night and Alec made sure they were dated last Wednesday, so there’s little to do besides-

_‘Can I just check your passport?’_

-before they’ll be on their way to the vault. Once she’s in the vault, Alec will lose her, they’ve planned for that. The vault’s security system won’t let him talk to her _but_ he should still be able to see through her glasses cam and the tech in her dress. Underwires schmunderwires - try signal boosters. 

“She on her way?” Eliot asks, and Alec nods.

“Yup,” he says. “Box six-sixteen, we already picked one out.”

~

Parker follows Cassandra Pyle across the floor to the elevator marked “CUSTOMERS” and accesses it with a pass that’s stuck to her belt with a retractable lanyard. The elevator opens and it’s a nice one, sure - all pretty and gold inside. If only it were _actual_ gold inside. 

“Right this way, Ms Clarke,” Cassandra Pyle says, and Parker gives Cassandra Pyle her best friendly smile and gets into the elevator after her. 

They start going downward just as soon as the doors close, although that’s by button, not by security pass. Sloppy. 

“We advise against keeping cash payments in your safe deposit box,” Cassandra Pyle starts saying, and Parker nods, looks around the elevator. 

There’s a camera in the corner of course, and a nice little panel to show you how far down you’re going. The bank’s open today so there’s staff everywhere. It won’t be open on exhibition night, but that’s fine. That’s fine. That’s what the bug is for. 

But when they reach the vault level, it’s just a normal day for banking. There are some customers, there are some bank staff, there are some mean-looking security guys with angry faces, but they’re all bank guys. Which means they’re HYDRA, okay, sure, but none of them are interested in Jenny Clarke. 

“Do you have your deposit to hand?” Cassandra Pyle asks, and Parker pats Jenny Clarke’s purse. 

“Why I sure do,” she says, polite but not warm. “Y’all have mah box ready?”

“Hmmm,” Cassandra Pyle answers, smiling without meaning it, Parker can tell. “We sure do, Ma’am. It’s right this way.”

Parker smiles until Cassandra Pyle’s not looking, and then she talks very quietly to Hardison. 

“This lady has an _attitude_ ,” she says. 

~

“Stay cool, baby,” Alec answers, but he’s biting back a smile. 

Bucky seems interested in what’s happening just about the same amount he seems unhappy to be in Lucille, and really, Alec can’t blame him. For Alec, and Eliot, and Parker, they’re on the job. For Bucky, he’s a block from a place that used to torture him and, even after the failure of a US Intelligence Agency and a very, very public destruction of that Agency’s corruption, the bank still runs. Alistair Richmond’s still in charge. Alec doesn’t know if Bucky’s the type to get scared, but if he is, then he must be right now. 

“Sorry,” Bucky says, and he passes his hand over his forehead like he’s got a headache.

“It’s alright, man,” Eliot says, “take as long as you need.”

~

Barnes shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut, and his hand clenches and unclenches - the real one. He looks like he’s thinking about pointing or something?

“Y’alright?” Eliot asks, and Barnes’ mouth opens, he says nothing for a long few seconds. 

“I be that, it ever n-no don’t.”

“What?” Eliot asks, did he miss something or did that make no sense? 

And then Barnes says, 

“Fah- _ahh_ -ah,” and Eliot moves - he figures it just before it happens.

Barnes locks up, makes a strangled noise, and then _keels over_ and Eliot lunges - he _just_ gets between Barnes and the wall of the van in time to stop him toppling straight off his chair and straight into the metal. 

“Whoa, damn, what-”

“He’s having a seizure, Hardison, help me get him down!” 

“I,” he reaches out, hesitates, “Par- Parker you’re on your own for two minutes, Bucky’s seizing-”

“Hardison, help me get him _down!”_

Hardison does, disentangles himself from his setup and gets on Barnes’ other side-

“God, he’s heavy,” Hardison mutters.

“Yeah, that’s that…” God, Hardison’s right though, “metal arm-”

They manage to get him on the floor, lying down and then they’ve got to make sure he’s safe.

“Grab him, get- get his other side, _Jesus_ -”

He makes little choking sounds, and Eliot makes sure Hardison’s got enough control that he can let go himself and get his shirt off. He’s wearing another underneath but he needs this one to ball under Barnes’ head.

At least he isn’t thrashing, small mercies.

“What the hell?” Hardison says, and Eliot shakes his head as he tucks the fabric under Barnes’ head.

He hasn’t bitten his tongue, he’s still breathing, he’s just rigid, all locked up. All they have to do is keep an eye on him, wait for it to pass. 

“A’right, I got him,” Eliot says - Barnes isn’t seizing so hard, maybe he’s coming through it. Eliot’ll be able to put him in recovery in a minute, “brain damage, just keep your eye on Parker,” he says. 

But it’s at that point that the cell on Hardison’s makeshift desk starts to ring. 

“Uh,” Hardison says. “Which of us is GenOne?” 

~

Joe hates his job. If he can stick with Mr Richmond it’ll be a miracle - he knows what the turnover at this job is. Still, it can’t hurt to try - there are plenty of people who’ll take ‘Richmond’ on a CV as experience in impossible work environments, whether or not he gets a recommendation once he’s fired.

GenOne are as good a security company as any, recommended by Mr Richmond’s insurers, although Joe knows how much Mr Richmond hates outside _anything_ , let alone outside security, and he calls because it’s easier to call and request files than it will be to explain to Mr Richmond that GenOne isn’t at his beck and call, no matter how many people in the bank do his bidding without question.

When he gets through to GenOne, he finds that he’s speaking to some guy he hasn’t contacted before. 

“Hello?” he says.

_“Uuh, yep, hi. GenOne security, you’re through to reception, how may I direct your call?”_

~

The box is big and heavy and Parker likes big, heavy, secret boxes. She has a few of her own but they’re not in anywhere as dumb or obvious as this. Whatever’s going on in the van, she’s got this for sure - the sensor trip can live on the underside of the table, and she places it when Cassandra Pyle turns away to give her privacy. 

It’s easy, this part. This is always the easy part - this whole thing should be an easy job except that HYDRA’s involved. 

The package fits in the box, so that’s good, and she’s careful with the bug when she places it under the table.

“Thank ya so much,” she says as she shuts the box, and Cassandra Pyle gives her a little more fake politeness as she locks the box up again. “Ah feel much bettah knowin’ it’s safe with all’a’y’all!”

“That’s why we’re here,” Cassandra Pyle says, “now let’s get you back upstairs and we’ll get everything sorted out and finalized for you.”

That’s phase two.

“Oh,” Parker says. “Y’all’re just spoilin’ me now!” 

~

“Jeez, Parker, tone it down!” Eliot mutters - Barnes has gone kind of limp and very definitely woozy, and his flesh hand’s still going, not quite twitching but moving, like he’s trying to grab for something. 

“My apologies, we’re having a small problem with our system,” Hardison’s saying while giving Eliot the side-eye, frantically pulling up the webpage he needs to be on - they sure as hell cut this one close if that’s a call for GenOne already. “Yessir, I should be able to check that for you. Can I have your case code so I can confirm your ID?”

~

Richmond’s assistant - Joe, from the readout information Alec’s getting from the bug on the front desk - doesn’t really sound like he’s interested, but Alec’s seen the employee turnover for Alistair Richmond, and he’s seen plenty of men like Richmond himself. 

_“Case code is...Just a sec…”_ so Richmond, whose reputation precedes him, is evidently not currently standing over Joe, otherwise Joe would be a lot less cordial about not having the information immediately to hand. _“Yeah, case code one-five-niner-two-Romeo,”_ and Alec narrows his eyes a little as he types it into GenOne’s database.

‘Niner’ is pretty military - he’s gonna have to look a little more deeply into Joe Greene, find out where he stands. He could be on either side, but an ex-military man against them would be a detriment, for sure. 

Still, that’s a job for future Alec - present Alec has the information up on the screen, contact information, extension numbers, the whole nine yards. 

“Alright, Sir, let me confirm your Client ID is three-eight-Alpha-Romeo-seven?”

 _“Yeah, that’s it,”_ Joe answers - good. 

“Alright, Sir, I’m looking at your case file now, it looks like your lead men are Grayson and Fraser, with a standard ten-man team as per the requirements of your insurance contract. Grayson’s your lead man, Fraser’s your eyes on the ground-”

_“Our what?”_

“Eyes on the ground, Sir?” Alec answers, like it’s a standard response. “Mingles with the guests while your other guys stand guard - have you not been made privy to procedure?”

There is a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the line. 

_“I’m a new hire,”_ he says. _“Alright anyway, can you fax me the files through?”_

“Fa-” Alec nearly swallows his tongue. “Yessir, let me just confirm those details for you.”

Fax!? What is this, the middle ages?

He pulls up the files, recites the details, listens to Joe confirm and then everything goes to hell in a handcart.

Or, more accurately, to hell in a van.

“Hey,” Eliot says, at which point there’s a whirring noise, a clicking noise, Eliot says “Stand-!” and then there’s a very loud, very sudden _BANG_.

~

Eliot has time to see what’s coming before he hits the doors of the van hard enough that they’d have opened to dump him out on the street if Hardison hadn’t locked them - and then doesn’t manage a word so much as a noise. Man, it _hurts._

He’s winded but it doesn’t stop him - he can’t let it stop him. Barnes looms over him and yeah, okay - _now_ , Eliot can _very definitely_ see the difference between the dude who showed up with an empty handgun at the brewpub and the man he was _worried_ had walked into the brewpub.

“N-No, it’s nothing, we’re running an exercise!” Hardison says, and Eliot spares him a glance because it’s Hardison and, if they’re all stuck in a van together, Alec is his biggest concern.

Barnes takes two steps towards Eliot, hand out to his side not even looking at him, and Eliot sweeps Barnes’ legs out from under him, decks him, but it’s not enough. Barnes goes down onto his knees, almost into the doors himself, but he twists, his metal arm comes up, he rears back for a punch and that’ll be it, Eliot’s head is a good as a watermelon to a sledgehammer.

“Stand down, _stand down!”_ Eliot yells, for lack of any other course of action, and puts both arms up in front of his head.

~

Parker doesn’t flinch, because she’s a professional. She doesn’t yell or run, she doesn’t do _anything_ but her inside feels like it’s a clenched fist and what she wants to do is shout for Eliot. What she kinda of wants to do is cry.

Instead she smiles at Cassandra Pyle as she leaves, but she doesn’t lower her glasses to wink at Andy on the front desk like she was going to. Her eyes would give her away.

~

Alec can’t do a damn thing - not with Joe on the phone, not with the van doors locked, not by the time he understands what’s happening - it happens so _fast_. He can’t help, he can’t defend himself - he can’t do a damn thing.

But instead of another loud bang, instead of the awful sound of the very quick fight of metal arm versus head, there’s…

Silence, for a good five seconds. 

~

When Eliot lowers his hands, Barnes’s fist is an inch from where his hands were, Barnes’ eyes are so wide there’s white all round the iris. His skin is gray. 

It’s like limbo, he thinks, like somebody’s pressed pause on the world.

“Good job, everybody,” Eliot finally manages to say, loudly, eyes on the metal fist and then on Barnes’ face. “Reset, we’ll go again in five.”

Hardison gets it instantly.

“Y’all gotta do this in the lobby, John?” he says. “I got a client on the phone.”

“Hostage negotiations ain’t no use in the break-room, Craig,” he says.

Barnes, looking about as shell-shocked as Eliot’s ever seen anybody look, thumps backwards onto his backside on the floor of the van, mouth open, breaths coming hard.

“At least keep it down, man,” Hardison says, and he gives Barnes a once-over too before he turns back to his screen. “Sorry about that, Sir - let me just confirm your email?”

~

“Eliot,” Parker says as soon as she hits the sidewalk. “Eliot!?”

 _“We’re fine, Parker,”_ Eliot says, and his voice is quiet but she can still hear it. _“It’s alright, just a hitch, nobody’s hurt.”_

“Are you sure?”

 _“I’m sure,”_ he says. _“We’re all okay, I promise.”_

“I’m like five minutes away!” she says, and a lady on the sidewalk gives her a funny look but she doesn’t care.

 _“It’s okay,”_ Eliot says. _“Parker, it’s okay, be cool, okay? Just walk, breathe, we’re fine - Hardison’s wrapping it up on GenOne, twenty seconds we’ll give you a headcount, okay?”_

“Okay,” she says, heart hammering, and she hears Bucky Barnes speak next.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ he says. _“I’m sorry-”_

_“It’s alright, man, just sit tight-”_

Parker ducks her head and pretends she’s tucking her hair behind her ear to push the earbud in further, to hear what’s happening.

~

“I,” Barnes says, and he shakes his head, disoriented.

Then he moves - he moves forward, he’s gonna to go past Eliot if he can, Eliot can see it.

“I-I have to- Air-”

“No,” Eliot hisses, trying to block his way, and Hardison gives the usual ‘thank you for your call, et cetera’ that means he’s almost done. “No, stay in the van-”

“I have to-” Barnes says, but Eliot gets a shoulder against Barnes’ chest, gets his hands on Barnes’ arms and does his best to hold Barnes fast, so close their noses almost touch when he speaks.

“Listen, man,” he says, teeth gritted tight, “we are _one block_ from the place that tortured the _human _outta you, I said stand _down!”___

__And Barnes kind of judders back a little, limbs shaking - he’s still woozy, Eliot can see that much. He’s just had a seizure, for Pete’s sake, and he’s almost dead weight_ _

__Finally, _finally_ Hardison hangs up, and then he’s ripping the headphones off and coming over to get Barnes from behind - he gets his arms under Barnes’ arms and then they both start to lower him back down to the floor of the van, get his head back on Eliot’s shirt._ _

__“I,” he says, “did I hurt…?”_ _

__He sounds exhausted - he sounds _terrified_._ _

__“Nah, man, you’re okay,” Eliot says, “we’re all fine, you take it easy.”_ _

__“Eliot,” he says to Eliot, “did I hurt Eliot?”_ _

__Hardison gives Eliot a look at that, expression serious, but Eliot heard, and reacting openly to it won’t help Barnes right now._ _

__“No,” Eliot says instead, the same tone of voice he’d use for people who caught shrapnel off an IED - stay calm, you’re in good hands. “You didn’t hurt anybody, we’re all fine, man. You had a seizure, you’re in the van, just lie still and take it easy.”_ _

__“God,” Barnes groans, and Hardison leans over him, hands on his shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles - he gets it._ _

__“Hey man, you good?” he says, and Barnes’ gaze shifts, the peak of his baseball cap is making it hard for him to focus._ _

__“Is Eliot okay?” Barnes says, and Eliot nods as he gets up for a bottle of water._ _

__“I’m okay, Barnes,” he says._ _

__“Eliot’s fine, hundred percent,” Hardison says too, and Barnes head turns a little, his gaze slides sideways._ _

__“God,” he whispers, and Hardison puts his hands on Barnes’ shoulders to help ground him a little while Eliot finds a bottle of water._ _

__“Hey,” Hardison says, and Eliot glances at him to find Hardison staring over his shoulder. “You really okay?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Eliot says, tugging the straps open on one of the coolers. “I’m okay, Alec.”_ _

__But Alec’s staring, like he’s not sure. Eliot reaches out, grasps the back of Alec’s neck for a second, because he gets it, that knot of fear in the stomach. But it wasn’t what it looked like - the weird angle to Barnes’ body, the look in his eyes._ _

__“He wasn’t comin’ for me,” Eliot says, and then goes back to looking for water. “Disoriented, thought the seizure was our fault when he came round.” There, finally, is a water bottle and he picks it up to take it back over. “He was just tryin’ to get outta the van.”_ _

____

***

Bucky doesn’t come back to himself for a while - which he knows because they’re moving when he does and they weren’t before he had his latest skip-in-memory, and Eliot is sitting very close to him, on the side of his metal arm. Parker is sitting opposite him, staring at him, so Hardison must be driving. Eliot’s leg is pressed up against Bucky’s - Bucky is wearing his seatbelt.

Parker doesn’t look nearly as friendly as she did before. It’s not an exaggeration to say that terror grips him, a cold hand around his throat - the only thing that stops him acting before he thinks is that Eliot and Parker and Hardison are all in the van with him, so he can’t have hurt them. At least, he can’t have hurt them badly.

He turns his head but doesn’t see any damage to the van and, when he looks back, he can see out of the corner of his eye that Eliot is watching him. 

“What did I do?” he says, looking first at Eliot and then at Parker. “Is anyone…?”

“You had a seizure,” Eliot tells him, face open, relaxed. Matter of fact, just shy of a smile. Eliot talks to him like nurses talk to patients, and it’s a kindness Bucky doesn’t feel he deserves. “Then you tried to get out of the van. We’re all fine, you didn’t hurt anybody, you thought I was tryin’ to hurt you so you tried to get on outta here.”

Parker doesn’t say anything.

He can’t blame her either, he vaguely remembers it now that Eliot’s said so - remembers the fear, remembers knowing how to leave, remembers thinking he wouldn’t let them do this to him again, remembers trying to get out. Eliot is not a small man but everyone’s featherlight to the arm, and Bucky can see in his mind’s eye the look on Eliot’s face as he hit the doors. 

Eliot sits now the way he has always sat in front of Bucky, a little hunched because he puts his elbows on his knees, or because he’s trying to see Bucky’s face even though Bucky keeps his head down. But there’s no staining in his mouth, no stiffness in his posture. Eliot hit the doors because Bucky pushed him into them but there’s no serious damage that Bucky can tell.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky rasps, but he doesn’t know that that will be enough. 

It shouldn’t be, not from something like him. He’s dangerous - all the time, whether he wants to be or not - and other people get in the way because that’s how life works. Bucky doesn’t remember what happened, what held him back, but he knows that Eliot was lucky, that Eliot might not be so lucky next time.

He doesn’t need to put them in danger, not any more than they’ve already faced for him. And if he can just make sure Steve knows Richmond is HYDRA, maybe that will be enough too. That will _have to be_. 

He shakes his head.

“I could’ve-”

“Man are all you superhero guys like this?” Hardison asks from up front. 

“You think you’re the only dangerous person in this van?” Eliot says before Bucky can ask what he means, and he says it quietly, patient like Steve’s friend is patient. “You think you’re the only person’s ever hurt somebody he cares about, think you’re the only person ever figured his situation wrong? And, man, you got a pretty good reason.”

And Eliot really does smile then. 

Bucky stares at him. Then he shuts his mouth so hard his teeth click.

Then he looks at Parker.

She shrugs one shoulder and looks away.

“I’m sorry,” he says, scrubs his hands over his face, flesh and metal. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey man, that’s why we’re here. If you can’t crawl, you know?” Hardison says, and Bucky takes his hands down and looks at Eliot.

“Sci-fi reference,” Eliot clarifies. “How ‘bout I put it this way instead - never leave a man behind.”

Bucky clenches his jaw and turns his head away. That’s more than he should be asking of these people, more than he deserves of anyone, let alone people like this - strangers who’ve taken it on themselves to do what they can for people who can’t. But he knows that arguing won’t make his point. They’re like Steve - if he says one thing, they double down.

“You…don’t have to help me,” Bucky says. “You’ve already done enough.”

Eliot takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Parker shakes her head a little but doesn’t look at him.

“It’s the right thing to do,” she says.

Hardison glances back for half a second before he goes back to watching the road. 

“You good?” he says eventually and, when Bucky looks in his direction, Hardison glances at him in the rear-view as well. Raises his eyebrows in question.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, and he rubs his hand over his face. His head feels full of water, his eyes feel like they need to be cleaned like dirty glasses. “Alright, yeah.”

He has to be.

***

They pull up in a nice area of town, way nicer than Bucky was expecting a hotel booking in. Maybe it’s one of those rent places, the…Air Bean Bee places or something.

Bucky isn’t ready to talk yet, he doesn’t think he can manage it. He knows what’ll come out of his mouth and he remembers men like that from the war. Falling over themselves to apologize when everyone else was exhausted past talking. Of course, most of them weren’t fishing for reassurance on purpose, but Bucky still doesn’t want to be that guy. Eventually, when you’ve said you’re sorry enough, people get tired of forgiving you. 

They head inside, and this must be something they set up before ‘cause they walk right on in like they own the place. 

“Two twins, two baths, living kitchen,” Hardison says as they walk in, nose buried in his phone, and the place —

Bucky has no idea who owns the place but they have to be rich. A place like this in a place like this?

It’s all open-plan and hardwood, metal fixings and low, pale furniture. Hardison was right about the rich - every rug and couch in this place is white. The blinds are all drawn, the lights are all warm white. It’s the middle of the afternoon but it feels like evening and maybe that’s the seizure, he’s not sure. 

“Nice place,” Bucky rasps - it’s a rasp because his voice doesn’t want to work, and the words are thick in his mouth.

“Thanks,” Hardison says, and Bucky turns around to look at him, frowning. 

Hardison owns this place too?

Hardison looks up briefly to grin. 

“Yep,” Eliot says as he passes, and he goes to pat Bucky on the shoulder as he goes.

But Bucky sees him pull his hand back before he does.

“‘Ey, y’okay with that?” Hardison asks, and Bucky looks because Hardison’s talking, but then finds that Hardison was addressing him personally.

“What?” he says, and Hardison nods at Eliot. 

“You be okay with him touchin’ your shoulder like that?” Hardison asks, and Bucky looks at Eliot. 

Eliot is standing there with his hand raised.

“I,” Bucky says. “Guess?”

Eliot smiles, slaps his shoulder, and then moves on. Bucky wants to think that they’re strange. He wants to think this bunch of weirdos are being overly cautious but, firstly, you can’t be _overly_ cautious with the Winter Soldier and, secondly, it’s….

It’s that same weird feeling in his chest, that it’s more than he deserves but he hopes they don’t stop it anyway.

“I’m gonna go sweep the bedrooms,” Eliot says, and Hardison frowns at him.

“Hey, this is _my place,_ ” he says.

“Yeah, and you ain’t been in it for six months,” Eliot answers, walking backwards out of the room before he goes, presumably, to do exactly what he just said. 

Bucky is exhausted. Seizures always take it out of him, this one more than most just because of how it all came about and went down, but he’s hungry too. He finds that he’s always hungry. 

“I’m gonna run through the security system, order us a pizza or somethin’, you good?” 

And this time Hardison is talking to Parker. 

Parker’s expression is tight and closed-off, and her answers are clipped though they still sound warm.

“Yep,” she says, and Bucky knows a tough nut when he sees one - knows when he’s wanted and when he isn’t. 

Hardison nods, spares a glance for Bucky - he’s doing this on purpose, Bucky knows - and leaves the room, tapping on his phone. 

So it’s just Parker. 

She doesn’t beat around the bush, he knows that already. So when he looks up, he finds her looking straight back at him.

“They’re all I have,” she says.

Bucky feels shame crawl up his throat and settle bitter on the back of his tongue. He can’t look at her. Eye-contact is hard enough, let alone like this.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“They’re everything,” she says, and he nods, he wishes the ground would swallow him.

“I didn’t…mean….” Because what’s he meant to say? He didn’t mean to? Fat lot of good that would do if he’d done what he _nearly did._

“We used to be bad,” she says, and he looks at her from under the brim of his cap. “Really bad. But that was apart - now we’re a family, and we’re together, and we do the right thing.”

Bucky swallows. 

“I didn’t want to be better,” she says, “until they wanted to be better with me.”

Bucky tries to look at her but it’s easier to look at her knees, her feet, easier to duck his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, because he is. 

How many families has he destroyed? And he almost destroyed another one. He almost destroyed one that was in the middle of trying to help him. 

“I was scared,” she says, “before,” and he lifts his head because she deserves to see his face, she deserves to know that he can hear her. “But I get it.”

And then he’s-

What? 

He glances at her, back down, glances at her, back down, away, back at her, he’s _trying_ to look at her. 

“I get wanting to be better,” she says. “I get wanting to do the right thing. And I get….being somebody that someone _made_ you. Instead of being somebody for yourself.” Bucky doesn’t know what to say to her - he doesn’t know what she’s been through, but that’s the kicker, isn’t it? “That’s why we want to help you. ‘Cause I…” And then she seems to relax a little, seems to be a little less distant. “You seem like a nice guy, you know? And Eliot and Hardison…they’re okay. If you’d hurt them, I…” She shakes her head. “I’d wanna kill you, but you didn’t, and I know you didn’t want to. It wasn’t you. And…you want to be better.”

Bucky does look at her then, because the last time he glances, her gaze is too strong to look away. He can’t speak - he can barely breathe. But she says it anyway.

“I know what it feels like. Wanting to be better for the people you love.”

Bucky feels small, tight in the middle, wobbly around the edges. 

“I’m gonna,” she says, and she presses her lips together in a way that isn’t quite a smile, hunches her shoulders, and then jabs her thumb over her shoulder. “Hardison really loves olives on pizza so…if you don’t want olives on your pizza…?”

“Right,” Bucky rasps, but it’s a rasp for a different reason now. “Got it. Thank you.”

“Yep,” she says, and then she walks out of the room too. 

~

“Feel better?” Eliot asks as she walks in, while Hardison orders the pizza, and she marches all the way up to him with such purpose that he thinks for a second she might be coming to punch him for something, but instead she kisses him. 

Then she goes over to Hardison the same way - Eliot knows it’s the same because, even though she’s literally just kissed Eliot, Hardison cowers a little too just in case - and lays one on him.

“Yeah,” she says. “No olives.”

“Wha-?” he says. “Girl.”

“They better have fresh mozzarella,” Eliot mutters, and Hardison covers the bottom of his phone with one hand.

“Man, it’s _New York pizza_ , and _I’m ordering it for you,_ of _course_ it’s gonna be fresh.”

~

Alec orders for the three of them - and okay, it’s funny to mess around but he’d _never_ put olives on Parker’s pizza. She doesn’t have a problem with olives, just not on pizza - and then heads back out to the living area.

Bucky looks better, too, seated at the kitchen island - Alec doesn’t know exactly what Parker said but he’s pretty sure he’s got a handle on the gist - and he waves at him and then points at the phone.

“Pizza,” he says. “What’s yours?” 

Bucky rolls a shoulder.

“Whatever’s left,” he says, and Alec shakes his head, laughs.

“Ha, no man, what’s yours?” 

Bucky chews his lip for a second, glances around the place. 

“Anything?” he says. “You sure?”

Alec shrugs. 

“Yeah? Sky’s the limit, man, what you feel like?”

Bucky Barnes wet his lips, gives the place another once-over, and then says,

“Triple pepperoni, double cheese - at least three kinds - three pies, one fries, and if they don’t stuff the crusts then a side of garlic bread.”

Alec smiles at him. At least he’s figured out he likes pizza.

“Drink?”

“Beer,” Bucky answers, relief flooding his whole frame. “Somethin’ awful.”

Alec nods.

“Got it,” he chuckles, and repeats the order into the phone.

~

Eliot has mozzarella, provolone, cheddar, with prosciutto, black olives, and basil. Parker’s is Hawaiian and Hardison’s is half meat feast and half the same as Eliot’s, because he’s like that. They’ve had the pineapple-on-pizza argument before but Parker’s pizza is Parker’s pizza, and Eliot’s had plenty of weird things on pizza that the other two would never go near. 

“Pineapple,” he mutters anyway, because sometimes it’s fun to needle.

“Ew,” she says, stealing one of his olives to pop it in her mouth. “Olives.”

Barnes vacuumed his first pizza out of the box like he hadn’t eaten in a week and now he’s halfway through his second. He had them cut into sixteen slices, and Eliot can totally get that. Eliot didn’t have his cut at all but that’s because he likes to eat pizza with his eyes first and cutlery second, but Barnes, well…Eliot figures if you’ve lived like him for as long as he has, any comfort you can get is comfort you deserve.

“Sixteen?” Hardison asked when he mentioned it, but before Eliot could tap his shin with his foot, Barnes explained for him.

“Feels better,” he said. “It doesn’t go all at once, it’s like…breaking a candybar into little pieces.”

Which, Eliot figured, Barnes must also do.

“Eatin’ ice-cream with a tiny spoon,” Eliot said, and he _knew_ Hardison gave him a look for that one, so he gave one right back - _what, I can’t enjoy ice-cream?_

“Yeah,” Barnes had said, and so that was that. 

Each of his three pizzas in sixteen slender slices, and once his immediate hunger was satisfied, he started to eat them like the sixteen slices were intended - carefully, slowly, with deliberate enjoyment.

“Good?” Eliot asks, now that Barnes is eating to eat instead of to satiate, and Barnes looks at him, one slender point of crisp dough in his mouth.

His head gives a little vibration of a nod, and Eliot gives him a smile and then goes back to not-looking at him. 

Tomorrow they’re going over the plans, putting the last pieces in place, and making sure the day after will go without a hitch. 

Hardison’s gonna get on it after they eat, Parker’s gonna check she still fits into her Panda dress, and presumably Barnes will spend a little time recovering. Eliot only has limited experience on what to do with someone who’s had a fit, but Barnes would negate any training he’d had anyway. There are very few people in the world who know how to properly treat men like Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers and, really, most of them are the type of person Eliot wouldn’t want to be anyway.

***

“You’ve been quiet,” Sam says, and Steve, elbow propped on the table so he can rest his head against his knuckles, doesn’t look at him.

He’s looking at his phone.

“Mm,” Steve says, frowning. “Just a weird message.”

“Natasha?” Sam asks, and Steve takes a deep breath before he answers.

“I don’t know,” he says.

“What, you think your boy?” Sam says instead, and Steve pulls a face at the phone.

“It’s a hell of a coincidence if it’s not him,” he says, because it’s true. 

Steve’s been chasing Bucky around since the moment he could stand after Insight - he refuses to say “the Battle of New York” and “The Battle of The Potomac” and all the guff the media keeps coming up with. Like those idiot ‘-gate’ suffixes, as though they haven’t figured out Watergate was a building and not a physical gate. He’s surprised nobody’s called it SHIELDgate, although they probably have, he’s just done his best to avoid media coverage.

It was HYDRA, there was no battle, and the sooner everybody comes to their senses about it, the better.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, because he’s good at stuff like this. “Where you at?”

“I hate HYDRA,” Steve answers, “and the arrogance of a media willing to influence the general public against common sense.”

“Okay,” Sam says slowly. 

“I’ve accepted an invitation to an art show,” Steve tells him. “Which I received yesterday.” 

“Right?” Sam asks.

“On my personal cell,” Steve continues, “via my personal email - not SHIELD, the one Nat set up.”

Sam’s eyebrows go up.

“So Natasha,” Sam says. “And she wants you to go to an art show?” 

_“Somebody_ sent me an invite to an art show, with the caveat that the host might be in trouble, and it happens to be in exactly the same place I’ve just put Bucky at.”

Sam blinks at him.

“Which is?”

Steve puts his phone on the table, flat, so Sam can see, and leans over to tell him, like a secret. For all he knows, it is a secret.

“New York,” he says. “Right here.”

Sam frowns, reads the invite for himself, and takes a long, slow breath.

“Your boy’s come home?” he mutters, and Steve nods slowly.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he says. “Yeah.”

***

Bucky takes a shower.

It feels like a rebirth, as hilarious an irony as that word is to him now. He stands under the spray and he turns it warm and the water is clean and the pressure is good and Alec - Hardison - Hardison says he can’t use up the hot water ‘cause the boiler’s electric, and isn’t that something? There’s a razor if he wants to shave, and a toothbrush, and a hairbrush, and Bucky will use all of those things. 

Water sinks through his hair like fingers over his skull, and he can’t help but close his eyes. It feels good, so good that it feels like something he shouldn’t have, just like the pizza, just like them helping him. There is soap, so his fingers are slick when they pass over skin that’s knotted with scars and coarse with body hair - why HYDRA used to take that from him, he’s got no idea, but now it’s back and wiry-scratchy on his skin, proof his body still works like the proof of his fingernails that still need to be trimmed. 

There are two knocks on the door, and Bucky answers with,

“Yeah,” which is all he needs to answer with.

There’ll be another two knocks in five minutes because Eliot Spencer is going to knock twice every five minutes for as long as Bucky’s in the shower. 

After that, tonight, they’ll take watches over each other, because Eliot Spencer is sharing his room and…well, Bucky’s not sure. He trusts Eliot, certainly. It’s instinct to arm a handler, but Eliot took a gun from him, in a public place, with a smile and a gentle question or two. It’s instinct to run when he wakes up confined and in pain, but Eliot covered his head in self-defense and still tried to help. Bucky’s got a lot of instincts left over from not being a person, and Eliot seems to understand all of them without a word.

What’s more, Parker and Alec, Parker and Hardison, they follow Eliot Spencer’s lead without hesitation. So the thing is, Bucky doesn’t know if Eliot Spencer trusts him but Bucky, incredibly, very definitely trusts Eliot Spencer. 

Which is dangerous as hell but, as long as he treats these people like he doesn’t, he should be safe if it all goes to hell.

But he’s losing time - he needs to sleep and he knows it, because the next knock comes fast, so fast that Bucky answers with a question.

“Yeah?”

And there’s a pause.

 _“Y’alright in there, man?”_ Eliot’s voice asks, and Bucky looks at his pruny fingers.

Why does tomorrow feel like a death sentence? He won’t be anywhere near the con.

Except he will - he’ll be a block away. And, if anything goes wrong, well. He’s weighed up the options and Steve will be there. So if Leverage need protection, Bucky can provide it. And if Bucky Barnes is recaptured? He doesn’t doubt that Steve will know what he’d rather do than become the Winter Soldier again.

“I’m okay,” he says and then, out of yet more instinct, he says, “lost a little time. I’m gonna get out.”

 _“A’right,”_ Eliot answers. _“I’ll give y’another knock in five.”_

He doesn’t know where Eliot served - he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask yet - but he’s glad, he is _so glad_ , to have someone in the place who knows how to settle his nerves. What’s more, Eliot knows before Bucky does himself.

It’s been too long since he stayed in a shower to feel the water on his skin, instead of in-and-out in five minutes under cold spray out of fear and necessity, but he’s enjoyed taking a shower just to take one, just like he enjoyed eating his food just to taste it. He’ll, hopefully, learn to enjoy sleeping, too. For now, it’s still necessity, and he gets out of the shower and starts to dry off. 

“Your, uh,” Eliot says as Bucky walks into the bedroom, “clothes are in the laundry, this place has a machine. We just thought…you know.”

Bucky nods. He’s got a towel over his shoulders like a mantle, Eliot won’t have to look at the scars.

“Your boy mind me sleepin’ in his sheets sans clothes?” he asks.

“My what?” Eliot asks, and Bucky looks at him.

Eliot looks…on the edge of something, like anger maybe, and Bucky feels caught out, pinned.

“He,” Bucky says, “A-Alec said you three were together…did….Should I not-?”

“Oh,” Eliot answers, and eases up again. “I thought you-” He waves a hand. “Yeah. No, yeah, it’s, he’s-”

And it takes Bucky’s brain a second to catch up - always does these days - but then he gets it, what Eliot must think he meant.

“No!” he says, way too loud, and Eliot shifts, puts one foot back like a springboard - God, he’s good; if Bucky weren’t trained to see it, he’d’ve missed it completely, but Eliot’s ready to fight him if he has to, even though he doesn’t have to - no, this issue is different _completely._ “That’s not what I meant!” Bucky insists. “I-I meant like Parker’s your gi- your, and Alec’s, she’s yours girl, yours…es?” Oof, not a word, Barnes. “You know? You’re, he’s your boy. You’re his boy, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eliot nods, and they seem to both have worried, figured it out, and backed down by the time the words are making it out of their mouths. 

“Not your _boy_ , Jesus,” Bucky mutters, although he can forgive Eliot for hearing it that way.

“I should’a known,” Eliot says quietly, taking a seat on his bed - it’s the one by the window so that he can be aware of sightlines, so that Bucky can sleep without worrying about the windows, so that Bucky can be against the wall and near the door and not worry about intruders or exit plans, so that Bucky can wake in the middle of the night and see Eliot’s silhouette on the other side of the room and know if he’s in trouble, and know if they’re alone. “You had Gabe Jones and Jim Morita on your team, I should’a known.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky mutters, and he slings a third towel over his head to start on his hair. “I also sang along to Chatanooga Choo Choo, so I can forgive you for thinkin’ it.”

He hears Eliot huff a laugh through his nose and smiles once he’s sure the towel’s down low enough to hide his face. It’s be nice, Bucky thinks, if he could be the type of guy to make a fella laugh at his jokes again. 

~

Eliot doesn’t look when the towel over Barnes’ shoulders slips. 

He looks away fast and pretends like he was cleaning the dirt from under his fingernails the whole time. He doubts Barnes - who snatched frantically for the towel and then hunched over immediately to hide himself - is fooled in the least, but then that’s how it works in close quarters with comrades. There’s a lot you pretend you don’t see or hear, and a lot you say quiet enough so that anyone else can pretend they don’t see or hear either. Eliot’s at an advantage - there’s nobody else here, so they can go at their own pace.

Now, Eliot saw a little, of course he did. He’s seen one or two things accidentally from the files Hardison was looking at, too, and it’s not the first injury he’s been close to - his own aside. 

There’s a long silence while Bucky Barnes steadies his breathing and covers himself, and gathers his wits enough to speak. When he does, Eliot isn’t surprised. He wishes he hadn’t heard quite so many injured soldiers say the same thing about it.

“Sorry,” Barnes breathes, and Eliot feels the bitter smile on his own face.

“Don’t gotta be sorry,” he says, and Barnes gives a bitter chuckle in response, presumably just as sad about it. 

“Look, I can’t tell you how to feel,” Eliot says, “and I wouldn’t if I could. But I only wanna know one thing.”

“How’d I get it?” Barnes says.

“Is it hurtin’ you right now?” Eliot answers, and there is a long, heavy silence between them.

“It’s…” Barnes says, and his head turns a little. He’s hunched over so far that Eliot can only really see his spine, dark hair, and the very ends of maybe three of the thick, rope-like tendrils of scar tissue that crawl down his back. “It’s always hurtin’ me.”

“Then, naw, hold on; I got another one - any way’a helpin’ it?”

Barnes’ head turns just a little more. 

“Not so far,” he says. “It’s heavy, it pulls the bone. Just…restin’. Same- Same as my brain damage. More I rest, better it gets.”

“Well I’ll be right here,” Eliot says. “We’ll wake you for food around eighteen-hundred, you got a preference?” 

Barnes manages to get the towel back up over his shoulder, and looks over at Eliot. 

“What were you thinking?”

Eliot grins. 

“American,” he says, then bobs his brows. “Texan. You like barbecue?” 

“I’ll try anything once,” Barnes answers, and Eliot nods, looks away again as Barnes starts to get into bed. 

“Well a’right,” he says, and when he looks over at Barnes, Barnes already has his eyes closed. 

It’s not instant, very rarely does anyone just fall asleep instantly. But it’s fast, maybe thirty, forty seconds before Barnes’ breathing evens out. Eliot can see his face in the afternoon light, even though the curtains are drawn. He still looks troubled, his skin’s still pale, but he _is sleeping._ Eliot settles in for the long haul - keeping watch in a place where Parker and Hardison designed the security? Yeah, that’s the easiest job in the world. 

~

_Barnes says he wants to try barbecue, you’re outvoted._

Alec gets the text literally just as he’s sitting down on the couch with Parker, and makes a noise in the back of his throat about it.

“What?” Parker asks, and Alec shakes his head. 

“Nothin’,” he says, “just a second.”

 _Why does your two count more than our two?_ he asks.

_Brainwashed WW2 P.O.W says he wants to try barbecue, you’re outvoted._

And Alec pulls a face but that’s fair enough. 

“Eliot says Barnes wants Texan for dinner,” he says, and Parker makes a noise that suggests she believes that exactly not at all. 

“I wonder who gave him _that_ idea?” she says. “I want buffalo wings. And onion rings!”

Alec rolls his eyes.

 _Your usual?_ he types.

 _Extra sauce ;)_ Eliot answers, and Alec shakes his head. 

Seriously, look at a man like Eliot and predict he’d use the winky face.

***


	4. The Payoff

There is a problem. 

Parker is due to arrive a half hour after Eliot walks into the building. She’ll have her black wig and her Panda dress (white) and she’ll be acting like a guest. Costume solved, objectives clear, she’ll be fine. 

Eliot walks into the place, with his badge and his fake ID, and notices one thing immediately. Nobody’s wearing a bright blue tie. 

“Hardison,” he mutters, teeth gritted. “They’re wearing _black_ ties.”

Which is security-detail standard but not what’s listed on their website _or_ what was on the specification roster when they checked it last night - there must have been some last-minute amendments on paper.

 _“It’s fine, baby,”_ Hardison says in his ear, _“they bring spares - ditch the blue, grab a black, you’ll be fine.”_

Eliot sucks his teeth for a moment but then starts to pick at his full Windsor. 

It’s just a tie, not a sign of bad luck. No big deal. What’s the worst that could happen?

As soon as it’s out of his collar, he shoves it in the pocket of his jacket, where it can stay unless he needs to ditch it.

“Hey,” he says to one of the guys getting ready, and the guy looks at him. “One of the early birds got me with a canapé - we got a spare tie?”

The guy gives him a once-over and spots the badge he’s wearing before nodding.

“Yeah, Jerry’s got ‘em,” he says, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at another guy.

“Thanks,” Eliot says, with as big a smile as he can muster, and goes to collect himself a tie. 

~

Everything’s going well, as far as Alistair’s concerned. The Klimt is up and the security firm are in, as per his insurance policy. His own men are on the perimeter. His suit looks pretty spectacular, and he’s been greeting certain guests when they come in, and avoiding others. That’s the price of social events - for as many people there are whom you _want_ to see, there are plenty you don’t.

~

Parker isn’t on Richmond’s radar, which means she doesn’t warrant a personal greeting. She doesn’t even seem to attract his attention in her black wig and (white) Panda dress. 

She makes eyes at one of the waiters as she leans very close to take a glass of champagne, and he leaves with a blush on his cheeks. Then, with a drink in her hand so she really looks like a party-goer, she makes sure to pass by Richmond. She does it easily, dropping the safety deposit box key into his suit pocket without a problem, and then all she has to do is wait.

~

Alistair’s never had a problem retaining names, it’s one of his skills. At least the names he cares about. His company run checks against everyone who comes in - the last thing he needs is undercover agents - but, the email he’s just received to his phone from the flagging system in the bank tells him two things. The first is that Jenny Clarke, who checked out, opened a safety-deposit box yesterday and put something in it during her appointment, leaving shortly thereafter. The second is that, ten minutes ago, Jenny Clarke’s safety deposit box changed from being registered to her to being registered to one Alistair Richmond.

He scowls at his phone, and then signals to one of the security guards to follow him out.

~

Alec and Bucky are looking at some of the records on file for the bank’s maintenance - there are a couple of different ways to access blueprints just in case Eliot needs an in-situ refresher on his exit strategy, or if Richmond tries to make a break for it early.

Eliot’s in place, already doing his job, and Parker - in a black wig and a white dress - is apparently already doing hers. 

Bucky is silent but he jigs his leg as he takes in the lines and diagrams on the screen, the lists of jobs done, the copies of payments for services rendered by construction and architectural experts over the years.

“Listen, I know this is what you want,” Alec says. “We understand that more’n most, but you’ve been though a lot, you gotta live with a lot and…I’m saying this is yours, we know this is yours. But we’ll take it from you. If you’re _sure._ Are you ready for this?”

But Bucky Barnes’ leg stops jigging, and he stares at the screen, white.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, it gotta- you gotta do it. Please, you have to do it, that’s…”

He raises one hand, his real hand, and points at what looks like a receipt from a hardware store. 

“Hey, man, you oka-” Alec starts, but Bucky is shaking his head.

“It’s gotta be tonight,” he says, “Steve’s _gotta_ be there. ‘Cause that’s a list of hardware.” 

Alec goes cold. So Richmond’s already building a new chair.

~

“Send it to me,” Alistair says, watching as security replays the footage of the dark-haired woman in the gray dress who stood in his vault yesterday. “To my phone.”

He doesn’t know for certain that she’s in on whatever’s happening, but he knows that something’s up. If she _is_ in on it, then he’ll find her but, regardless, he needs to know what’s happening. If whoever it is thinks tonight is the best night to try it,they're wrong - he’s got GenOne, and the bank security, _and_ his _personal security_ on-site.

“Uh,” says one of the GenOne security guys, pointing at a screen. “Did that one guest just pickpocket you?”

Alistair watches them take it back. Shoulder-length black hair and a white dress.

Jesus Christ, is that…maybe that’s the Black Widow? That would explain guest number one-fourteen. And Jenny Clarke. _Fuck_. Still, if Rogers hasn’t shown up and tried to kill him by now, chances are he doesn’t know. 

He puts his hand in his pocket and his fingers wrap around…a key. A safety deposit box key. Alistair knows instantly that it belongs to ‘Jenny Clarke’s’ safety deposit box, and isn’t that interesting? Because, if the Black Widow has planted something in the vault, chances are all Alistair really needs to do is get to it first. 

“Yes,” he says, because the GenOne guys don’t need to know what’s really going on. “Send that to me too.” Then he looks at the security guy. “Come with me, we’re going to the vault. And send someone to the women’s bathroom - I want the pickpocket.”

~

Steve took a taxi, because he didn’t want to try and find somewhere safe to leave the motorcycle. And because his helmet hair doesn’t look good with a suit, so he’d stick out like a sore thumb once he got inside.

Part of him’s pretty sure he’ll stick out like a sore thumb anyway, but what’s a guy to do? If somebody needs protection, somebody needs protection. And if Bucky really is here, it means that - probably - whoever’s after Richmond could be anyone, but is most likely to be Hydra. 

~

“Very clever,” Alistair says, pulling the file from the safety deposit box. “Very clever indeed.”

When he opens it, it’s full of nonsense, made up numbers and diagrams and blueprint. It looks like evidence, but it isn’t. None of the numbers correspond, none of the things that call themselves evidence link to any of the jobs he actually assisted with. He shakes his head. Made up or not, the bits and pieces of it come from the leaked Hydra files. It would be enough for Rogers et al to take a good long look at his activities over the past couple of decades. 

“We’ll stop by the office on the way back,” he says, because his office has a shredder, because it doesn’t make any sense but he’s not about to risk it.

“Sure,” the GenOne guy says with a shrug, and then they leave. 

~

Steve doesn’t have a coat to check, and the guy there asks if he’s got a cellphone.

Steve says no, because it’s on silent and he's not parting with it. Nat and Sam are the only ones who know the number, and he’s not giving up that lifeline, not for all the corn in Kansas - besides which, Nat says it’s signal-boosted and impossible to detect unless you’re maybe an inch away from it, so he doesn’t even need to worry about being caught out with it. 

~

“Head back upstairs, see if they found that pickpocket,” Alistair says to the security guy. “I won’t be a moment.”

The guy nods - incompetent - and walks away, and Alistair unlocks his office, opens the packet, and starts feeding the pages into the shredder. It doesn’t take him long at all, and he puts the envelope through too, just to be safe. Then he goes back out into the corridor and empties the shredder into the trash chute - he’s not taking any chances.

After that, he puts the shredder back and locks the door behind him.

Then he heads back upstairs, too.

~

_“A’right,”_ Hardison’s voice says in his ear. _“Heads up - stars and stripes is on-deck and we are good to go.”_

Eliot lifts his head, cranes his neck and looks. 

Past the drinks and the Klimt, past the buffet table and the fancy vases, through the crowd and out the other side of all the other security guys, way on the other side of the gallery, Steve Rogers steps into view, looking about as concerned as he usually does, in a cobalt blue suit and no tie. Rogers has a glass of champagne in one hand, which he holds as though he has no interest in it whatsoever, and he scans the crowd the same way Eliot scans crowds. Eliot likes him already. 

Cobalt’s a good look on him (shut up, alright? Eliot isn’t blind) although he is going to blend spectacularly with the private security on duty tonight.

“Captain!” he says as a test as he approaches, not-too-loudly to attract attention but enough to see if it makes Rogers nervous, doing his best golly-gee kind of greeting. 

Rogers glances around to see if anyone’s heard as he holds out his free hand, and Eliot makes a note not to use his rank again. Rogers’ eyebrows go up as he deposits his champagne on a passing tray with some relief, and Eliot smiles.

“Good to meet you, Sir,” he says as Rogers takes it, and he shakes it for a little too long on purpose.

Rogers looks…Rogers looks as though he’s heard that twenty times a day since they thawed him out but, as bad as Eliot feels about that, it’s a good start. He needs Rogers to trust him, and the best way to get Rogers to trust him is to seem like every other overzealous figure of small-authority

“Hi,” Rogers answers. “Listen, I, I’m Steve Rogers, please. Don’t worry about callin’ me by rank.”

“Sure thing, you got it. It’s an honor, Sir,” Eliot smiles, “I’m Matthew Fraser, I’m security for tonight, listen -” Rogers swings his entire upper body down to Eliot’s level, turns his ear towards Eliot’s mouth. “Bossman doesn’t want any ruckus, doesn’t need his guests askin’ questions, you understand? Long as you’re here just stay close to him, don’t interact - he’ll come talk to you when the time’s right but otherwise, he’s asked that you act as a guest.”

“I understand,” Rogers says. “Am I, uh. Going to be in contact with the rest of the security team?”

“Abso-tively, Sir, you get a direct line to me,” Eliot answers, presenting Rogers with a walkie-talkie that connects him to Eliot. 

Amongst other things.

“If you wanna just keep that on you, black button connects you to us once you turn it on with the red.”

“Roger,” Rogers mutters, and slips it into his pocket. 

~

Inside Lucille, Hardison smiles. It’s a walkie, sure, but he’s made earbuds small enough for Eliot and Parker to wear unnoticed - making two-way communications and a cloning board small enough to fit into the shell of a walkie? Not a problem. 

_D EVICE CLONED_

“Yep,” he says. “He was carrying a cell - I’ve got it now,” he says, and the information starts to pop up on his screen. It’s encrypted. “Damn, his encryption’s tight - I can send him a text or give him a call but that’s it.”

~

“Well, it’s contingency anyway,” Eliot says to Hardison, and Rogers frowns at him.

“Yeah I know,” he says. “You’re not expecting trouble tonight, right?”

Oh right. Super hearing. 

“Uh, no,” Eliot smiles, does his best. “Nono, just.”

“Yeah,” Rogers says. “Contingency.”

Damn, he’ll have to be careful.

***

“So when are we setting off the vault?” Bucky Barnes asks, leaning back against Lucille’s wall, and Alec chews on a redvine.

“It’s timed for forty-five after the time on the invitation, give or take a couple,” he says. “Redvine?”

“Thanks,” Bucky answers, and takes one. “Give everybody a chance to get in and settled, that’s smart.”

“Yeah,” Alec nods. “Make sure Parker and Eliot are all good, you know. How ‘bout you, you feelin’ alright?”

Bucky draws a breath and sighs.

“For a certain measure of alright,” he says. “Yeah.”

He narrows his eyes a little at the camera feeds on Alec’s screen.

“You nervous?”

“That’s one of the things I am,” he says. 

“Y’all don’t gotta be nervous,” Alec tells him. “First, we’re _good_. Second, we all look out for each other and we all look out for ourselves. We came into this knowing what we’re in for right? We’re makin’ our own choices here.”

“Mm,” Bucky says. 

“Hey, and third?” Alec says, and pauses until Bucky turns his head to look at him. “We know what’s at stake here.”

Bucky looks away.

“They’ll kill your friends if they find them.”

“Better’n what could happen to you if we don’t do this,” Alec answers, and Bucky just looks at him again. 

There’s never silence inside Lucille, not with the machines running, not with so little between them and the outside world, but there’s a good few seconds of something pretty close to it.

“I don’t get it,” Buckys says. “I don’t get it - what’s in this for you?”

Alec doesn’t really know how to put it in a way that won’t be deeply offensive. It’s not like he can just point at World War Two and be like ‘bro’ but still.

“Helping people,” he says. “People who can’t help themselves, man, you know how that is. Doing the right thing.”

And he can see that Bucky understands - of course he does. But he can also see the conflict there.

“Listen, I used to be the best crook in my field. Identity theft, bank transfers, if it was online I could get in, take anything. Same for Parker, she was the best thief in the world - any painting, any diamond, whatever you wanted, she could get it. Eliot was a hitter, only person who really knows his body count is him. And, here’s the thing, man, we _chose_ that.”

A muscle in Bucky’s jaw jumps.

Alec projects _You Did Not Choose What They Did To You_ as hard as he can, because he can see how little that’s gonna fly if he says it out loud. 

Bucky goes back to watching the feeds, jaw tight.

In fact, they’re just settling in when the back doors of the van open with a sudden enough noise that it makes them both jump, but it’s just Parker in her Panda dress (black). Once she gets in, Bucky helps her close the doors, and then she flops down and produces the black wig from somewhere.

“Bring us anything nice?” Alec says, and she smiles. 

“Phase three,” she says.

***

Steve does his best to be optimistic about things. It isn’t easy, really - it never was. It’s worse now.

The Klimt is _beautiful._ It’s painfully gorgeous, it makes Steve’s heart ache and his eyes sting. 

“Pretty, no?” somebody asks, and Steve has to look down to look Richmond in the eye, but that’s true for most people these days. 

“It’s beautiful,” he answers.

Yes, of course he’s jealous. More than a little. In fact, it irks him that something so definitive, something so iconic, is trapped in a private collection. Still, he’s always been a socialist, and he’s always found money in these amounts somewhat repulsive. Maybe, if he can get cozy enough with Richmond, he can convince him to put a little of his wealth where it counts instead of piling it into the stock market, because he’s certain he’ll never get a man like this to allow a museum to hold onto his pieces.

He doesn’t hold out much hope though, another example of his more recent lack of optimism.

“I’m told you’re a connoisseur,” Richmond says, sounding very self-assured for a man apparently in need of a supersoldier bodyguard, and Steve shakes his head.

“Just appreciative,” he says, marveling at the light off the gold. “I couldn’t always see color so this is a real treat.”

Richmond laughs in a way Steve doesn’t like.

“Of course,” he says. “Of course.”

“I’m keeping an eye out anyhow,” Steve says, because Richmond doesn’t sound like he needs reassurance but that could just be bravado in the face of fear - it wouldn’t be the first time someone reacted to a threat that way. 

Steve doesn’t think so, though.

After Richmond gives him a funny look - alright, maybe he really _shouldn’t_ have mentioned anything - he goes off into the crowd, and Steve stands somewhere he can see the Klimt and scan the room. It’s hard to keep an eye out for bad guys when such a beautiful painting is literally in the room, and Steve would never touch it, but he really, really wants to. He hasn’t felt like this since he saw the Eiffel tower in Paris - it’s smaller than he expected but it’s _real_ and it’s _right there_ , and Steve is _right there with it._

And his skepticism is well-founded. It’s maybe forty-five minutes after that that everything goes to hell.

***

“You ready?” Hardison says, and Barnes looks at him.

“As I’ll ever be,” he says. 

“All twisted up in knots?” Parker asks, also now chewing a redvine and Bucky tries to take a deep breath. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I- This guy’s bad. Really bad. And Steve…”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Hardison tells him. “It’s gonna be easy as pie, you watch. I’m pretty sure Rogers can take care of himself.”

“I know he can,” Bucky nods. “It’s whether he gets what we’re trying to tell him.”

Hardison smiles, shows Bucky the keyboard.

“Eliot, you in position?”

 _“In position,”_ Eliot answers, and it’s true, Bucky can see him on the feed of the stairwell, about halfway down to the basement level. _“This still feels like a sellout.”_

“Man, just get inside and get your ass on the floor,” Hardison chuckles, and Eliot reluctantly prepares to do so.

He loosens his tie, pulls off a button, tears the sleeve of his suit jacket just a little and messes up his hair. They watch him crack one lens of his glasses, and then put a hand on the door handle. 

_“Ready?”_ he says, and Hardison grins.

“Whenever you are, baby,” he says. “Phase four’s a go.”

And Eliot steels himself, twists the door handle, and runs into the basement corridor, lighting up every single alarm on the way. 

~

There’s no audible alarm, is the thing. Steve knows something’s up because all the security guys flinch at once and Richmond immediately moves, but - aside from something that might be a hypersonic indicator - there’s nothing that would alert the guests. He follows Richmond because that’s what he’s primarily here to do, and security let him go because - presumably - they figured out who he is. 

“What do you have?” he says to Richmond, and Richmond, moving at a fair clip now they’re not in the main exhibition hall, startles and glances back at him.

“Captain,” he says, “there’s been a security breach on the lowest level.”

“Are we heading there?” Steve asks, catching up with Richmond easily.

“Security first,” Richmond answers. “I want to see what I’m up against before we move in.”

Steve…Steve glances at the other security guys. He could probably take anyone on the vault level, but his first priority has to be Richmond. So he follows Richmond to security.

~

“Alright, he’s taken the bait,” Hardison says, and Parker bumps Bucky’s shoulder with hers. “Just hang tight, Eliot.”

~

Steve follows Richmond into security, where a bank of screens shows everything that’s going on - party, empty rooms, darkened offices. 

And then Steve’s heart stutters in his chest the way it hasn’t since the bridge, a painful trip that takes him back to being five-foot-four and barely able to breathe.

“Bucky?” he says, more to himself than anything, quietly enough that nobody else will have heard - but it’s definitely him.

For a moment, Steve isn’t sure - fists flying, moving fast and assured like he did on the bridge, like he did on the helicarrier, that’s Bucky, right there, in a jacket and a cap, fighting Matthew Fraser, the head of Richmond’s security detail. 

A lot of things occur to Steve at once - mainly that Bucky is either not in control of himself or deliberately fighting one of the security detail, and that the two most likely reasons for that are either that Bucky is trying to get past Fraser, or that it’s Fraser he’s trying to stop.

“Where is this?” Steve says, pointing so hard at the screen that the convex glass creaks under his finger. “Where is it!?”

“Vault level!” the nearest security guy says. “It’s the vault level, he’s after the vault!”

Steve shakes his head. 

“Mr Richmond-”

But Richmond is…out in the hall on his cellphone. What?

~

“He’s dialing,” Alec says, and he glances at Bucky. “Here we go!”

Through the computer speakers, Richmond’s voice comes through.

_“Ground Control it’s Major Tom, I’m…checking ignition, Jesus Christ, just- Asset on site!”_

_“Repeat, Major Tom?”_

_“I said the Asset is on-site, he’s on-site, for God’s sake, send me a backup crew so I can get him under control and bring him in.”_

“Jesus,” Bucky says. “He really did it. With Steve right there, he really called them. You got it?”

Alec grins.

“Yep,” he says. “Soon as Eliot gives me the go-ahead, I’ll patch it through.”

~

Steve grits his teeth and looks away from where Richmond is shoving his phone against his ear in the corridor. 

And then he sees it. 

When Steve met him this evening, Matthew Fraser was in a suit and black tie with a wire in his ear and a pair of glasses on his face. On the screen, where he’s lying on the floor of the corridor, the tie around Matthew Fraser’s neck is _cobalt blue._

“Get me everything on Matthew Fraser,” he says instead, to the nearest security guard. 

On the screen, Fraser is being dragged out of shot feet-first by the Winter Soldier, by _Bucky Barnes_ , and Steve shakes his head.

“I’m not wasting any more time in here,” he says. “How do I-”

But a different alarm sounds as Steve’s speaking - higher, faster, louder. The vault. He looks over his shoulder at Richmond and finds that Richmond is already moving in the opposite direction.

“For fuck’s sake,” Steve mutters - why does every protection detail have to be for someone who acts like they don’t want to be protected? “Come on!” 

And the security guys at their little screens only hesitate for a second or two before they follow him out. 

~

 _“They’re on their way,”_ Hardison’s voice says in his ear, and Eliot hides around the corner.

He feels like a kid playing hide-and-go-seek, but it works - twenty seconds later, as Rogers and Richmond and everyone else pile down the stairs and down the corridor, they all run in the opposite direction. Until Rogers has to open his big mouth.

“You check the other way,” Rogers says to two of the security guys as he heads off after Richmond towards the vault, and Eliot ducks back behind the corner with a sigh, pulling off the broken glasses as he swipes his hair back off his forehead. 

Two guys - one GenOne and one of Richmond’s.

He sniffs as he loosens up his shoulders. 

Easy.

~

Richmond opens the vault. Steve knew he’d be able to, and it involves a bunch of complicated to-ing and fro-ing, scanning and typing and an actual key, but then the vault door swings open and inside is…

Nobody.

The vault is empty. 

And the ground by the table is smoking. 

~

“Okay,” Hardison says, but Bucky can’t stop staring at the screen. “Okay, we’re in, they’re there, everything’s good. You ready?”

Bucky can’t answer. His tendons feel like they’re going to snap, his knuckles feel like they’re going to break, his teeth feel like they’ll shatter any minute.

“He’s in there,” he says. “He’s in there with _him_ -”

And Bucky knows he’s panicking, he can hear it in his voice but that’s _Steve_ in a _chair location_ with _Alistair Richmond_ and if he-

“Hey,” Parker says, and Bucky looks down when he feels her fingers on his hand, opens his fingers when she looks like she’s trying to get to his palm, and then is surprised to find that she’s putting her hand in his. “He’s Captain America, right?” 

Bucky looks at her, scrapes his teeth over his lower lip and nods, slowly. He is. He’s a dumbass, and a hero, and the love of Bucky’s life, and he’s also Captain America. 

“Yeah,” he rasps.

“Plus, Eliot’s in there too so…”

Bucky huffs a laugh though the levity doesn’t last, and nods a little more quickly.

“Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

~

Eliot takes a frankly sloppy right hook to the face and a knee to the stomach before he manages to put the GenOne guy down with a roundhouse to his jaw, no issue, but the second - from Richmond’s detail - isn’t going down so easy. Eliot snatches his earpiece wire and hits the guy in the back of the head as he shields his ear from the wrench of sudden-plastic-removal, but he gets his arms around Eliot’s waist and drives him backwards into the wall.

~

Upstairs in security, Joe, Mr Richmond’s secretary, sees that the fight going on in the corner of the screen is between three of the security guys. Which is. Okay, unusual. 

Joe is also the only one in security at that precise moment. 

He could grab any of the walkies, or even call Mr Richmond’s personal cell, and let him know that either one or two of the hired security is in trouble, that there’s possibly someone else trying to get into the vault. Then again, Mr Richmond’s got Captain America with him and…

Eh. 

You know what? Fuck it. 

“I quit,” Joe says.

If anyone deserves to have their vault broken into it’s Alistair Richmond. 

~

Eliot, on the floor with the guy, manages to drive his elbow back into the guy’s face once, and a second time, and then he gets enough space between them while the guy’s reeling to punch downward. 

He still doesn’t stop.

~

Richmond uses his toe to pull the bug out from underneath the table - smoke bomb, presumably to set off the sensors - and crunches it under his foot. 

It doesn’t do much to stop the smoke, but it makes him feel better, and he kicks the remnants out of the vault so that the extractor outside will take care of it. 

~

Eliot’s nose is bleeding, and he’s going to have a black eye but whatever, right? He can take this guy.

He puts up his fists, and the other guy does too, kind of circling around. The guy smiles, and Eliot smiles right back. Then the guy goes for his face. 

Left, Eliot ducks, right, Eliot feints and comes back with another double-hit, and the guy staggers back. He comes straight back though, ready for another go, but it’s then that Hardison says, 

_“They’re in the vault, babe,”_ and Eliot’s had enough. 

He sidesteps Richmond’s guy, grabs the nearest fire extinguisher, and puts a swift end to the fight as the guy turns around. 

Then he swipes his hand over his nose and turns around.

“Aright, that’s these two down,” he says. “So just phase five now, right?”

~

Alec smiles. 

“Right on, baby,” he says. “You can head on out, wait for Cap on the…”

But something’s wrong. He types, types again, and then frowns. 

_Damn it._

_“What, what is it?”_ Eliot asks, and Alec shakes his head.

“Listen, the vault’s access is off-limits to me,” he says, watching restrictions come up on his screen. Trying to bypass does nothing. “There’s an EM field that started when the alarm system disabled - he…Damn, he must’a installed it since Barnes broke in.”

~

Eliot takes a deep, calming breath. 

_“I can’t get to the PA system,”_ Hardison says.

Eliot nods.

“Then we’ll just have to go oldschool,” he answers. 

~

Everyone is, predictably, gathered around the vault entrance when Eliot gets there, and he can hear Richmond berating someone for the false alarm. People move for Eliot because he’s in the uniform, but it’s when he rounds the corner that there’s trouble - before he can ascertain what’s going on, he’s being slammed back into the wall and hoisted a good few inches off the floor by his _shirtfront_ , and okay, he grabs the guy’s arm and he’s about to fight back when he realizes it’s _Rogers_.

“Nice of you to show up,” Rogers says. “Save me the trouble of hunting you down. Who are you working for?”

Eliot tries to not-struggle, no matter how strong the instinct, and he takes a breath, a little winded by the whole slam-up-against-the-vault-wall thing.

“Mutual friend,” he says, and Rogers sneers, clearly about to retort - but Eliot gets there first. “He’s Hydra,”and he nods at Richmond.

Cap’s whole face falls, head turning to look at Richmond.

“What?” Cap asks, and Richmond laughs.

“Am I?” he says. 

If there’s nothing with Richmond’s name on it, nothing will have led anyone with the files to Richmond himself. Cap won’t have had any inkling. He stares at Richmond, clearly working it over in his brain, and then he looks back at Eliot.

“There’s paperwork that’ll prove it,” Eliot says.

“Oh you mean in this safety deposit box?” Richmond asks, and they both look at him then - he pulls his phone from his pocket, starts playing a video. “That your girl planted the other day, in full view of my surveillance?” Rogers’ eyes narrow, Eliot breathes out slowly. There Parker is on the CCTV placing the file in the folder, the bug on the table. The video changes and there she is tonight, planting the key in Richmond’s pocket. “It’s a nice effort,” he says. And he unlocks the box door, opens it, pulls out the box, sets it on the table. “But nothing goes in or out of this vault without my knowing about it, not for the last fifteen years. And you’ve got nothing. _Nothing._ ”

The box is empty. 

“You can keep your fucking key.”

And then he throws the key across the floor towards Eliot. It skids to a halt across the shiny, sparkling tiles.

“Now, Alec,” Eliot mutters, and Cap looks at him in confusion.

~

“Let’s hope it doesn’t go to voicemail,” Hardison says, but Bucky shakes his head.

“It won’t,” he says, looking at the _Black Widow’s_ entry in Rogers’ cellphone address book. “He always answers her ringtone, ‘cause she only calls about Hydra.”

~

There’s a moment of silence before Cap’s cellphone rings but, when it does, Rogers goes for it immediately, one-handed. Eliot doesn’t even slip an inch.

“Talk to me, Nat,” he says, as Richmond starts spouting crap about custody and retribution but Cap…

Cap lets go of Eliot, his fingers uncurling like he’s not aware of it, and Eliot slides down the wall until his feet are on the ground, at which point Cap’s fingers uncurl from his shirtfront, Cap’s hand drops away. He looks down at the key on the floor as he lowers his phone from his ear, and then his gaze shifts. 

He stares at the floor. Eliot can still hear the voice on the line until Rogers ends the call. 

“What are you doing?” Richmond says indignantly. “Are you going to arrest him or something?”

But Rogers doesn’t answer that particular question.

In a voice that is both very measured and fit to burst, he says, dark as a thundercloud,

“Mr Richmond,” and then he looks up at Richmond from under his very furrowed brows. “That was impressive. Your whole system, your head for numbers, names - nothing goes in or out of here without your knowledge.”

“Not a damned thing,” he says.

And Rogers nods. 

“In that case, would you care to explain to me why you’ve got holes in your vault floor at the exact dimensions for electroamnesial apparatus?”

Richmond blanches. So he definitely knows what he’s being asked. Eliot looks down. There are screwholes in the tile, Richmond hasn’t had the decorators or communications teams in yet. 

“What?” Richmond says anyway. 

“I’ll advise that you think very carefully before you answer me,” Rogers continues. “And I’ll ask you again. Why did your vault have a wipe chair?”

 _“Damn, he can see that?”_ Hardison’s voice asks.

 _“It’s a very distictive set of dimensions,”_ Barnes’ voice answers.

Parker laughs.

 _“Ha, it’s very distinctive!”_ she says, but Eliot takes a risk.

He steps forward.

“You heard the call he made to his handlers,” he says.

“What?” Richmond says.

Rogers stares at his cellphone.

Eliot knows what he’s just heard.

“This is why we put it together,” he says, quiet, and Rogers’ head turns to look at him. “It’s true there’s no papertrail, Hydra were smarter than that for their higher-ups. But you just heard the recording of him calling his handlers, you heard what he called Barnes, and there is a way to tie him to the information. We have a list of projects his bank has funded, authorized by him, and they connect a lot of dots, Captain Rogers, but we needed to get it to you, not your organization.

“What?” Richmond answers, because Eliot’s making it deliberately hard to hear.

“Where is it?” Rogers says, and Eliot shakes his head.

“Right here, Sir,” he says, showing his hands first and then slowly opening his shirt, to show Cap where the papers are strapped to his chest, _“I have_ the packet.”

Richmond makes a strangled sort of groaning noise, but then there’s a click that he and Rogers both recognize, followed by an awful lot more and then, well. There is a glock pistol pointed directly at the back of Rogers’ head, by one of Richmond’s security, plus several more being held by all his other men, a good few of which are pointed straight at Eliot. 

Rogers’s eyes cut left towards the closest one, and then he looks at Eliot. Eliot raises one eyebrow. 

_We can take them._

And Rogers’ mouth ticks up at the corner. 

Oh, he knows.

~

“Oh damn,” Alec mutters as he pulls out his earpiece, and Parker winces.

Bucky flinches a little too.

“Well, _that’s_ a lot of gunfire,” Parker says, and Bucky sighs.

“Actually that’s pretty standard.”

Alec laughs. 

“For HYDRA or for Cap?”

Bucky just gives him a _look_ , and Alec gets it. Heart-of-gold ex-military boyfriends; they’re all the same.

***


	5. After

After, when the police have left, and Rogers’ friends have seen to Richmond, it’s almost a nice evening. 

“Why the vault, Mr Spencer?” Rogers asks, and he looks a lot smaller sitting on the back steps of the bank than he does when he’s pinning Eliot to the wall. 

The file is open in his hands - he read it as soon as Eliot untaped it from his undershirt to hand it over - but he looks tired. He looks _exhausted._

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” he murmurs.

“Because the vault wasn’t the target,” Hardison says, coming around the corner.

Rogers looks surprised, cautious.

“My colleague,” Eliot says. “Alec Hardison.”

Rogers holds out a hand, which Hardison shakes once he’s close enough.

“We needed Richmond to take down the alarm system,” Hardison says, and he pulls a thumb drive from his jacket to hand to Rogers as he nods at the paper file. "Digital copy.”

“But the fi- wait,” Rogers says. “Were you _robbing the bank?”_

“We were robbing Richmond,” Parker says, and then waves. “Hi. I’m Parker.”

Rogers stands as she approaches, and nods in greeting, and then thinks about it.

“Right,” he says. “If you take his funds, he can’t fund anything else, right?” he says.

“Eh,” she answers. “Not exactly.”

“The funds weren’t the target either,” Eliot says.

***

_Hardison sits back in his chair, crosses his arms and looks distant for a moment._

_“I can make a papertrail,” he says. “Where does Richmond keep his paperwork?”_

_“They’re not in a safety deposit box. The plans are in Richmond’s office, which is on the other side of the basement from the vault,” Bucky answers. “I remember that office, I remember the safe. I did what I could but I can’t get through - the alarm system’s out of my area of expertise, digital. I could blunt force it but I’m not at my best, I can’t guarantee I could do it right. But it’s all linked.”_

_“It’s linked?” Hardison says, and Bucky nods._

_“Until the contractors get in, yeah,” he says. “If you can get him to turn off the alarm in the vault, it turns off the alarm in his office too. All you have to do is loop the CCTV and crack the safe.”_

_Rookie mistake, these hotshot rich boys all think the same. Hardison smiles, and looks at Parker, who bobs her eyebrows._

_“Not gonna be a problem,” he says._

***

“And the tie?” Rogers asks. “You changed your uniform - that’s how I knew you were a plant, but why?”

“Mistake,” Hardison answers. “That was our footage.”

***

_“Nah, nah,” Hardison says, “I have a_ much _better idea.”_

_~_

_“State of the art CG, baby,” Hardison grins, and Bucky…well, Bucky knows tech has come a long way since he went under, and he knows how to make a fight look good._

_“You’re sure this is gonna work?” he asks, but Eliot Spencer, in a crisp navy suit with a blue tie, his hair styled to be out of the way and glasses on his clean-shaven face, looks pretty certain._

_“Always has before,” he says. “We just need to make sure they can see you.”_

_Bucky nods, takes off his baseball cap and throws it out of shot, and then rolls up his sleeves._

_“Alright,” he says. “Come at me.”_

_“Hey, wait a second,” Eliot Spencer says, and he looks at Hardison. “You rollin’? I don’t wanna have to do this twice?”_

_“I’m on it, sugar,” Hardison answers, adjusting the camera from his spot on the stepladder, and Eliot Spencer looks at Bucky like he expects Bucky to say something._

_Bucky doesn’t - he doesn’t care who sleeps with whom, that’s not why he’s here._

_“Alright,” Eliot Spencer says, once he’s satisfied, and then he goes to the end of the little corridor set, reconstructed from the bank’s blueprints, and gets ready to run at Bucky._

_And then, saying words Bucky doubts most other people ever will have heard, he says,_

_“I…I mean…Go…easy though. Okay?”_

_“Sure,” Barnes answers._

_“Action,” Hardison says, and Eliot nods and breaks into a run._

_And he’ll_ get _Hardison later for laughing._

_This at least means phase one is done._

***

“But why go to so much trouble?” Rogers says, flabbergasted. “Why not just tell me?”

Parker shakes her head. 

“Because there was another target,” she answers. “One that isn’t for you.”

***

_About five minutes after she drops that key in Richmond’s pocket, in full view of the nearest security camera, Richmond scowls at his phone, and then signals to Eliot - or ‘Matthew Fraser’ as far as he’s concerned - to follow him out._

_Parker goes to the restroom, locks herself in a cubicle, and then gets to work. She stuffs her wig in the pocket sewn into the inside of the dress, wipes off her bright red lipstick, and unpins her hair so that it all falls down around her shoulders. She unfastens the reversible section of her dress - the bodice and ruching - so that it all falls down over her legs inside-out, black hiding every last inch of the white (black and white - _go panda dress!)_ , and then flushes the toilet and goes out to wash her hands._

_It’s about three and a half minutes after Richmond leaves that she gets the good news she’s been waiting for._

__“Eliot in security with him, he’s told Richmond about the key - alarm’s disabled, you’re up, babe,” _Hardison says in her ear, and she leaves the restroom, hangs a left, and ducks down the staff entrance with the card she lifted from the waiter._

_Richmond’s office is the door at the end of the corridor on the basement floor, and the safe takes pride of place behind the enormous portrait of himself, that sits behind his desk. It’s a smart move, she thinks, to keep your office in the basement. The air vents are full of grating, there are no windows - the only way out is the way she came. Nice setup. Unfortunately for him, his safe’s a Kirby._

_“Hello, beautiful,” she says._

_Oldie but a goodie - unless you’re Parker._

__“Should I be jealous?” _Hardison asks, and she starts to crack it._

_“Nah, I like tough nuts,” she says. “Crackin’ this is easy.”_

_And it is - not twenty seconds later, the door swings open and there’s nothing. She pulls out her magnetizer - false bottom - lifts the inner cover and, finally, there, right in the middle, is a folder of papers. She grabs it, opens it - a picture of the Winter Soldier and a bunch of blueprints._

_She checks the safe for anything else - cash!! - but apart from the cash and the file, there’s nothing._

_“I’ve got it,” she says, and puts the cash in her clutch._

__“Hurry up, Parker, we’re headed your way,” _Eliot’s voice says._

_“Eh, easy,” she answers._

_The papers slide down behind the corset, nice as pie, and then all she’s got to do is walk back out, lock the door behind her, and leave the way she came in - simple._

_She’s in the stairwell when she hears Richmond rounding the corner to his office maybe twenty feet from where she’s standing, coming back from the vault with Eliot._

_“Head back upstairs, see if they found that pickpocket,” Alistair says to Eliot. “I won’t be a moment.”_

_“Sure,” Eliot answers, and then the door to the stairwell opens and his face appears._

_She smiles as he jogs a few steps up to meet her._

_“You get it?”_

_“I got it,” she says, patting the front of her dress._

_Eliot tilts his head in the direction of the basement door._

_“He bought the decoy, he’s shredding it now,” and Parker laughs._

_When they get back up and out onto the exhibition floor, she heads straight for the cloakroom._

__“You good?” _Hardison asks._

_“We sure are,” she says once her white-fur-lined coat is in her arms, already on her way out of the building._

_That’s phase three complete._

***

“Our mutual friend wanted information,” Eliot says, and Rogers smiles a small, pained little thing.

“He was never on-site,” he says. “Was he? Was it even him? Or was it just…I don’t know, a tip off and another one of your colleagues on that tape?”

Eliot smiles a little, glances at Parker and Hardison, and pulls a phone from his pocket. 

“Here,” he says, “it’s for you.”

Rogers frowns, but he takes the phone, and lifts it to his ear.

~

_“Richmond had the plans for the chair, Steve, and I knew I could trust you with them, but I also know you’re not working alone.”_

“Bucky,” Steve breathes, his heart leaping up into his throat. “Bucky, where are y-”

 _“You mook,”_ Bucky’s voice says. _“I could be anyone, what’s the weather like in London?”_

~

Rogers laughs wetly.

“Too cloudy for sun, too sunny for rain, did you see the picture playing last night?” he says, and then there’s a pause while Barnes answers. “You son of a bitch, Jesus Christ, I miss you.”

“Okay,” Eliot says, because Parker and Hardison have hearts in their eyes and eavesdropping on their minds. “Privacy? You two?”

Hardison tips his head back and groans but he moves when Eliot starts herding them.

“What?” Parker says. “No, I wanna-” Hardison takes her other arm and they turn her around between them. “I wanna hear!”

~

Steve sounds a mess. He always does, of course, TV interviews, talk show appearances. He always sounds a mess. 

“You never needed me to look after you,” Bucky says. 

_“I always needed you to look after me,”_ Steve answers, and Bucky hates himself a little. _“Where are you?”_

“I’m close,” Bucky tells him. 

There’s a long silence, but Bucky hears Steve breathing. It’s not just breathing.

 _“Can I see you?”_ he says, and his voice is thin, stretched.

“No,” Bucky says, as kindly as he can, and Steve makes a noise in response that’s a little bit like a laugh. He knows it isn’t one. “I’m not ready for that yet, Steve. I need more time.”

 _“Mmm,”_ Steve answers shakily. _“Are you safe?”_

“I’m safe,” Bucky tells him, curls up a little on the floor of the van. “But listen, the work I’ve been doing is important. I’ve been leaving you breadcrumbs.”

_“Bucky-”_

“Go home, Steve,” Bucky tells him. “Rest. Alright? Just rest. And the next time I send you some breadcrumbs, follow those. Okay? I’ll…I’ll be in touch.”

 _“Wait,”_ Steve says, and Bucky bites his lip. 

This is harder than he thought it’d be. 

_“Ple- Buck, just…I-I miss you.”_

“Yeah, me too, pal. I just need time, alright? Just a little time, I’m gettin’ better. I’m…pullin’ it together, I just…I want to be a person when you see me.”

_“I don’t care who you are-”_

“I know, sweetheart, you never did,” he says, and it slipped out but he means it. “You never did, but _I_ care. I want to be a person when you see me.”

There’s a huge sigh, Bucky can hear the crackle in the back of Steve’s throat with it.

 _“Okay,”_ he says. _“Okay. I…Buck…Bucky, how much do you…remember?”_

“I love you, Steve,” he says, and Steve really does kinda laugh then. It’s still wet and thick but he hears it.

 _“I love you too,”_ he says, _“God, Jesus, Buck, Bucky, I miss you so bad.”_

And it’s hard, it’s so hard. It always was hard to leave him, to do what he had to do but do it without Steve.

“I’m gonna go, sweetheart,” he says, and Steve doesn’t say no, doesn’t tell him not to. There’s a quiet, unhappy sound on Steve's end, but he doesn’t stop Bucky. “You’ll see me soon,” Bucky says.

 _“I love you,”_ Steve says. _“Bucky, I love you.”_

“I know baby,” Bucky says, and he has to swallow hard against the lump in his throat. “I love you too.”

~

For the most part, Eliot made sure they were giving him privacy, but he comes back to lean on the corner of the building, arms crossed, as Rogers lowers the phone from his ear and stares at it as the screen goes dark.

Rogers sniffs loudly, presses his lips together. Then he clears his throat and looks at Eliot - of course he knew Eliot was there. 

“Hey,” Eliot says, and Rogers smiles another pained smile, holds up the phone.

“So,” he says. 

“We’re gonna head out,” he says. “We got a long drive back to the west coast.”

“West coast,” Rogers says, shakes his head as he laughs up at the stars. “Jeez.” But then he looks at Eliot. “Thank you.”

Eliot unfolds himself from his lean and holds out his hands.

“Don’t mention it. And hey, man,” he says, and he steps forward to shake Rogers’ hand, for real this time. “It’s an honor workin’ with both of you.”

“Keep him safe,” Rogers says, grip firm, so Eliot nods, and then Rogers holds out the phone when they part.

“Nah,” Eliot says with a smile, and he takes a couple of steps backwards. “You keep it.”

And then he turns around and walks away.


	6. Epilogue

_** Six Months Later ** _

It said “The Brew Pub” in neat dark print on the beige postcard, without a message or signature. 

The return address, written in very small handwriting along the bottom edge of the back, read ‘Leverage Consulting & Associates,’ and it takes him the better part of five days to get there. He starts around nine every morning, and stops around six at night. He stays at motels and eats at diners, and, around lunchtime of the fifth day, he pulls up to a huge brick building in Portland, Oregon. 

The place has a friendly air to it, people out and about with food and drink. There’s a deck, an awning, the inside looks warm and inviting, and so he parks up and goes inside. 

His phones have both been on the whole time but Natasha’s still under, and Bucky’s texts are rare. 

Inside The Brew Pub is warm and cozy, wood and brick, and he crosses to the bar. He doesn’t recognize the staff, but a lady with an apron smiles at him.

“I’m Amy,” she says. “What can I get you?”

“Uh,” he says. “I’d like to…talk to…Leverage?” he tries, hoping he’s got the right place and, to his relief, he sees recognition in her eyes.

“Ah,” she says, and nods. “Okay. You go sit over there and I’ll fetch them.”

Steve nods, then he asks for a beer and tips before he goes to sit down.

It’s maybe three minutes before the person walking up on him from behind turns out to be Eliot Spencer, who sits down opposite him. 

“Spencer,” Steve says, and he can’t help the smile. 

It’s good to be sure he’s in the right place, good to be certain he’s among friends. Good to see someone he knows has helped Bucky. 

“Hey, Cap,” he says quietly. “How you been?”

“Good,” Steve says, although it’s not always the truth, and he can see the edges of a white bandage that stretch down a little further than the edge of Spencer’s rolled-up sleeve, so he points. “You’re all alright?”

“Oh we’re,” Spencer says, lifting the fingers of the hand he rests on the table. “You know how it is, doin’ the right thing. Ain’t always easy but it’s always the right thing.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I get that.” But he feels his smile fade. “Listen, I…I looked into you some. And I…” he shakes his head, he doesn’t really know how to put it. “You do some amazing work. Helping people.”

Spencer smiles a little.

“We’re in the same business,” he says. “So what brings you to Leverage, Captain Rogers?” 

“I,” Steve says, “was hoping you could help me find someone,” and it’s at that moment Spencer’s gaze cuts upward, left, over Steve’s shoulder. 

To the other person who’s come up to stand behind Steve.

“You know what, Cap?” Spencer says, standing to make room. “I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know the bank in New York is the Federal Reserve Bank in New York, but then I’d have to stick to blueprints and ownership. This way the building can be and do whatever I want. 
> 
> The second labor of Hercules was killing the hydra. 
> 
> I know Parker's favorite safe is a Glen Reader - I had her crack a (Jack) Kirby instead. The safety deposit box is six-sixteen or, (har har) 616. 
> 
> A summary in case I wasn’t clear enough with my writing:
> 
> \- Bucky destroys the last wipe chair in the bank, and leaves  
> \- Bucky asks Leverage for help bringing Richmond down  
>  _\- (Flashback) Bucky asks for help retrieving the Chair plans_  
>  _\- (Flashback) Hardison pre-films Eliot and Bucky fighting in a CG corridor [Phase One]_  
>  \- Leverage and Bucky head to New York  
> \- Parker plants a file where Richmond can see it and a bug where he can’t [Phase Two]  
> \- Richmond finds and destroys the decoy file  
>  _\- (Flashback) Parker gets the chair plans [Phase Three]_  
>  \- Hardison pipes the pre-filmed footage into security to get Steve and Richmond into the basement level [Phase Four]  
> \- Eliot gets the file to Steve [Phase Five]  
> \- Steve talks to Bucky via cellphone  
> \- Steve travels to Portland to ask Leverage for help finding Bucky


End file.
